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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25364827">Shut up and dance with me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/tallycravens/pseuds/tallycravens'>tallycravens</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Motherland: Fort Salem (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - High School, F/F</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:40:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>48,071</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25364827</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/tallycravens/pseuds/tallycravens</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Raelle Collar isn't exactly popular. She hates pretty much everyone, except for her best friend, Libba. When a mysterious new girl captures her interest, things begin to change. Will Raelle break expectations, or will she allow stereotypes &amp; high school cliques to ruin her chances at love?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Raelle Collar/Scylla Ramshorn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>96</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>260</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Pepless, gothic, lesbian daughter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Raelle attends a pep rally under duress and meets the new girl.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>R.C.—</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Pep rallies. The bane of my existence. </p><p> </p><p>I enter the gymnasium glumly, starting toward the bleachers. I’m only here because I have to be, but I’m sure as hell not watching the cheerleaders run around the gymnasium making idiots of themselves. </p><p> </p><p>“Raelle!” My best friend, Libba, calls my name and I go to sit down next to her. </p><p> </p><p>Ignoring the commotion around me, I have my sketchbook on my lap, the tip of my tongue sticking out my mouth as I draw. There’s no doubt that Libba is just as bored as I am. I glance over to see her picking at her chipped black nail polish. She rolls her eyes as she meets my gaze, then puts her thumb &amp; finger up to her head to mime shooting herself. </p><p> </p><p>I snicker and my eyes momentarily drift onto the cheerleaders, who are performing their routine. Objectively, it’s probably impressive. God knows how long it took to get the moves down. I can’t dance. I’m terrible at it, so maybe part of this is jealousy, but also, most of all, severe lack of pep. </p><p> </p><p>No one who’s ever met me has ever thought of me as peppy. Maybe it’s the black clothes, resting bitch face and sarcastic comments I make that give off the vibe. Whatever it is, it’s working for me. Mostly.</p><p> </p><p>Tally is the only one on the squad I can stand. We grew up together. Childhood friends. But what you don’t know as kids is how different you’re gonna end up being. Tally hasn’t changed that much, not really. She’s still sickly sweet to everyone, and not in that fakey way either. She’s completely genuine and has a heart of gold that I just know is gonna end up broken. </p><p> </p><p>Byron is the only guy on the squad. He doesn’t wear a skirt or anything, but that’s not for lack of trying. He gets a lot of shit for being so effeminate, but I think it’s pretty rad that he doesn’t care what people think. </p><p> </p><p>Tally’s best friend, Glory, is the captain of the cheer squad. She is nice enough, I guess. I can’t remember her ever saying anything mean to me. That’s pretty much my gauge of whether or not someone’s an asshole. </p><p> </p><p>On a scale of one to ten, with one being an angel and ten being an asshole, Tally’s a firm one. Glory’s probably a two or a three. </p><p> </p><p>I’m not gonna lie. I can be a strong ten, but at least I embrace it. Libba can be awful too, but in an endearing kinda way. That’s why we get along so well. We have the same sense of humor and we’re constantly talking shit about everyone around us. </p><p> </p><p>As the cheerleaders finish their routine, I let out a sigh because I know what’s coming next. My grip on my pencil tightens as the football players run into the gymnasium and I can’t help but roll my eyes, hard. The guys are all pretty much what you’d expect of a typical football player. I don’t know any of them all that well. Except for Abigail. </p><p> </p><p>Yeah, we have a girl on our football team, and she is the most merciless of all of them. That’s why she’s a great runningback. </p><p> </p><p>It makes me want to throw up just thinking about it. I’m not all rah-rah team anyway, and it’s not like I have a problem with Abigail, but she has literally <em> everything </em> going for her. She’s probably the most popular girl in school, and once upon a time, she used to be my best friend. So maybe I am a little bit bitter. </p><p> </p><p>She’s gorgeous, rich, athletic and will probably end up being valedictorian. It’s like, leave something for the rest of us, right? </p><p> </p><p>I’m hard at work on my sketch when someone bumps into me and knocks my pencil out of my hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey!” I yell, but my face softens a little bit when I see it’s Gerit Buttonwood who’s run into me. If there is anyone who is lower on the rungs of the social ladder than me, it’s Gerit. </p><p> </p><p>He pushes his thick glasses back up on his nose, sputtering an apology as he loudly scrambles down the bleachers. </p><p> </p><p>The dark haired girl sitting in front of me turns around and picks up my pencil. She hands it over to me and I can’t help but stare into her icy blue eyes. <em> Wow. </em> I’ve never seen her before and her smile makes my heart beat a little faster.</p><p> </p><p>“Here you go,” her voice is soft and musical in tone, and I hesitate before plucking the pencil from her hand.</p><p> </p><p>The question leaves my lips before I even think about how stupid it sounds. “Are you new?” </p><p> </p><p>She laughs and nods her head. “Yeah. Today’s my first day.”</p><p> </p><p><em> Who starts school on a Friday in the middle of the year? </em> Something must have happened and I really wanna ask, but that would be pretty rude. I don’t even know the girl’s name yet.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh. Sorry you had to see all this then,” I gesture toward the cheerleaders and my eyes widen when she gets up from the bleacher beneath me and moves to sit in the empty spot to my right. </p><p> </p><p>Even Libba looks over at the girl, raising a questioning eyebrow at me. </p><p> </p><p>“She’s new,” I explain.</p><p> </p><p>The girl leans across me and offers her hand for Libba to shake. <em> That’s weirdly formal, </em> I think with a bemused grin. “I’m Scylla,” she introduces. “It’s my first day.”</p><p> </p><p>“Libba,” is all she replies, ignoring her hand and just staring at Scylla’s like she’d grown another eye in the middle of her forehead.</p><p> </p><p>Her hand lingering there is just so awkward that I can’t help but shake Scylla’s hand myself. The way she smiles at me makes me feel like I’m gonna barf. But like, in a good way? “I’m Raelle.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good to meet you, Raelle,” Scylla replies brightly and her gaze drops to my open sketchbook. I quickly begin to close it but she grabs my hand, making me look up at her. Oh, shit, with those blue eyes on me, I’ve forgotten how to speak words. “I love this, is it an octopus?”</p><p> </p><p>“Squid, actually, and thanks,” I finally respond when my vocabulary is restored. She’s dropped my hand, so that helps a lot. </p><p> </p><p>I don’t know if she’s flirting with me. I can never tell when a girl is flirting. I’m not even sure if I want her to be. She’s dressed kind of nondescript. Jeans, hoodie. Scylla’s mysterious because she isn’t outwardly readable and as a curious person, I realize I want to know more about her.</p><p> </p><p>Scylla leans forward to look at my sketch a little closer, her fingers brushing against mine. “It reminds me of those facehugger things from Alien.”</p><p> </p><p><em> Zzzt. </em>My brain takes a minute to process what she’s just said. “Wait, what? You’ve watched Alien?” It’s not exactly the kind of movie most people watch, especially now that it’s so old. “That movie kinda inspired the drawing, so it’s weird that you’d say that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Bad weird?” She seems a little uncertain, like she’s wincing just thinking about me thinking she’s strange. What she doesn’t know is that strange is exactly what I like.</p><p> </p><p>I smirk because I can’t help it. “Nah. Good weird. I don’t have much in common with...pretty much anyone.”</p><p> </p><p>“Except me,” Libba adds, just reminding me she’s listening in on our conversation. I very much want to kick her right now, but don’t want Scylla to see me doing it.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, okay,” is all Scylla says in response and I really want to know what she’s thinking because she’s gone very quiet. </p><p> </p><p>I feel like maybe I said something wrong. It wouldn’t be surprising, really, but I don’t know how what I said could’ve made her upset.</p><p> </p><p>With a shrug, I finally close my sketchbook and fold my arms over it. Scylla’s gaze is focused back on the gymnasium floor as Anacostia, the football coach, gives a speech. When I look around, I accidentally catch my mama’s gaze. </p><p> </p><p>Oh, yeah, I forgot to mention she’s the cheerleading coach. Clearly, she’s very proud of me, her pepless, gothic, lesbian daughter. She gives me a cheerful wave but I don’t wave back. </p><p> </p><p>I’m not trying to be a bitch, but I like to keep a line between school and home. She doesn’t make sticking to those boundaries easy, especially when she brings her squad to our house.</p><p> </p><p>“So,” I say, trying to continue the conversation with the mysterious new girl. “Did you just move here?”</p><p> </p><p>When she glances over at me, her eyes look sad. “Uh, yeah,” she murmurs, and I wonder what’s going on. “I’m from Bridgeport.” That town’s more than an hour away, but I’ve been there before, once or twice. </p><p> </p><p>“What brings you here?”</p><p> </p><p>She just sighs. “It’s kind of personal. Sorry.”</p><p> </p><p><em> Yikes </em> ...I’ve just made things even worse. <em> Open mouth, insert foot. </em> I want to crawl under the bleachers and disappear. Obviously if she’s moving in the middle of the school year, something’s up. Maybe her parents got divorced, or her house burned down. </p><p> </p><p>Whatever it is, it can’t be good. She shifts uncomfortably and wordlessly moves back down to the bleacher below me. I feel like I’m gonna be sick. I’m such an idiot.</p><p> </p><p>Principal Alder leads the students in a spirited chant, which Libba and I mock mercilessly. At least that means the pep rally is almost over and we can go home. </p><p> </p><p>They always schedule these things at the end of the day on Fridays and it is beyond tempting to skip and head home, but with my mama in attendance, I have no hope of getting out of it. Fucking sucks. </p><p> </p><p>Luckily Libba is going to be staying over tonight. I know one thing we won’t be doing - attending tonight’s game. We usually fuck around on the internet, play some video games, eat trash and just chill, watching movies and shit. </p><p> </p><p>The thing that’s cool about Libba is she’ll come by and do her own thing. I don’t feel like I have to entertain her all the time. She feels just as at home at my place than her own. </p><p> </p><p>I don’t think my mama likes Libba so much, but she puts up with her. My papa, however, thinks she’s the funniest person in the world. He always saves up his stupid dad jokes for whenever she’s around. He’s pretty keen on impressing her, but she thinks he’s kinda lame.</p><p> </p><p>Libba always teases me for calling my parents mama &amp; papa, but it’s just how I was raised. She says it makes me sound like some kind of country hick, and I tell her to fuck off. Unlike mine, her parents are legitimately cool and I honestly prefer to hang out at her place most of the time. They stay out of our business because they actually trust their daughter. Must be fucking nice. </p><p> </p><p>Because Libba and I are both gay, her parents are convinced that we’re secretly dating. That’s literally the only thing that annoys me about them and most of the time, it’s funny to play along. </p><p> </p><p>I do think Libba’s attractive. I can’t say she’s not hot, because she is. It’s not just her appearance, though her short stature and wild curls are certainly appealing. She has this swag that I envy and have never been able to imitate and she’s seriously witty. </p><p> </p><p>Despite all the great things about her, I just don’t see her that way. Maybe my life would be easier if I did. But thankfully, she doesn’t seem to have feelings for me either. I can’t imagine how awkward it would get between us if she did. </p><p> </p><p>As the bell rings, Libba and I can’t get out of there fast enough. We race to our lockers, shove our books into our bags and grab our skateboards, relaxing immediately as our wheels hit the pavement.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Get to know her, dumbass</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Raelle learns something about Scylla that makes her question everything.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>R.C.—</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This is freedom. Neither of us have a car of our own because we’re only sophomores, but Libba does have her learner’s permit, which is pretty dope. She’s a shit driver, though, according to her mom. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I’ve never been in a car with her, thank god. But at this rate, she’ll be getting her license first, so hopefully she improves. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I don’t really want my life in Libba’s hands. She’s got very little hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, you’re into the new girl, huh?” She asks as we skate down the sidewalk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I hate that she knows me so well. “She’s hot. Sue me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just didn’t think she was your type.” Libba shrugs her shoulders, popping an ollie like it’s nothing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I roll my eyes, muttering under my breath, “Showoff.” I don’t want to talk about this, only because I know how much she’s gonna tease me about it. I haven’t liked a girl in a while but I remember what she was like when I did. “We literally know nothing about her, how do you know she’s not my type?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, she wasn’t wearing black, for starters.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She annoys the hell out of me, but I love her anyway. “Fuck off,” I grumble, my shoe hitting the pavement as I skate faster. She yells after me, trying to catch up, but my legs are just a little longer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I’m laughing, not paying attention when I go tumbling straight into someone. I land hard on the concrete and scrape up my palms when I catch myself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck,</span>
  </em>
  <span> that hurts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, no. It’s her. This cannot be happening! </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shit, are you okay?!” Scylla drops to her knees, looking me over. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>My hands are stinging like crazy but my pride hurts even more. Libba’s caught up with me and she’s grinning until she sees my palms all bloody, then she turns super serious. It’s weird to see her be so serious.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t we call your mom? She probably hasn’t even left the school yet, she can pick us up. Scylla, you’re walking, right? I’m sure she can drop you off, too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(I’m not hurt that bad. She’s overreacting.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No, no, no,</span>
  </em>
  <span> I want to scream. I don’t want Scylla meeting my mother right now, or ever! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Luckily the idea seems to spook Scylla too, because she immediately says no. It only makes her all the more mysterious to me. I really want to know what her deal is.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>My palms are looking pretty gross, and there’s no way I’m reaching into my pocket. I ask Libba to get my phone for me, but before she can, Scylla pulls it out of my pocket instead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s so close to me and I must be blushing because Libba’s grinning at me like an idiot. She takes my phone from Scylla, types in the passcode, and calls my mama. It takes a few rings for her to answer and she sounds exasperated, but she agrees to come get us. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I hope you’ll be okay,” Scylla whispers with concern. “You probably won’t be able to draw for a little while.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit,</span>
  </em>
  <span> I hadn’t even thought of that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Libba slips my phone back into my pocket and I give her a grateful smile before I sit down on top of my board, grimacing in pain. I lost quite a bit of skin and looking at my hand is kinda fascinating. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The blood doesn’t really freak me out or anything. I’ve never minded that kinda stuff. My mama always said I’d be a good doctor one day but I don’t know if I’m smart enough for all that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine. Just a scrape,” I say bravely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Scylla leans down to look at my hand and unexpectedly presses a kiss to my fingertips, my heart leaps in my chest. “I’ve heard it helps,” she teases, her blue eyes glittering in the sun. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, my fucking god, she’s the prettiest girl I think I’ve ever seen.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Libba clears her throat loudly as my mama’s car pulls in front of us, the emergency flashers blinking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I don’t know what to say, so I awkwardly tell Scylla, “Thanks. Uh. Have a good weekend.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You too. Hey, are you going to the game?” She asks kindly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Libba actually laughs at the suggestion. “We don’t go to those.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I want to apologize because Libba’s being rude, but my mother rolls her window down and yells impatiently at us. “Get the fuck in the car!” She sees Scylla and smiles. “Oh, hey, Scylla. You’re still coming to practice on Monday, right? You won’t regret it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What...the...fuck?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Libba presses her lips together to keep from laughing, getting into the backseat. I look over at Scylla as she tells my mother she’ll be seeing her at practice on Monday. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It just figures that I’d be crushing on a goddamn cheerleader. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck my life.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I say a quick goodbye and open the passenger side door, which hurts my hand a lot. I climb into the passenger seat, throwing my board over my shoulder into the empty back seat. It clatters against Libba’s. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When I go to put on my seatbelt, it pulls my skin again and I feel like I’m gonna be sick. My mother glances at my hands, shakes her head and turns off the blinkers, pulling back onto the road. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She hates that I skate. She’s lectured me so many times I’ve lost count. I just know I’ll be getting another one tonight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Scylla’s going out for the squad, huh?” Libba questions from the back seat and I slyly flip her off where my mother can’t see. It hurts to even give her the middle finger, but the pain is worth it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>My mother nods as she stops at the traffic light. “Yes, she is. She and Tally really hit it off, and as you know, Raelle, Hilary just broke her leg this week, so we’re down a girl. Perfect timing, really, and I think she’ll fill out the skirt nicely.” She chuckles, gunning it when the light turns green.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I say nothing, arms crossed to my chest. This pretty much does it for me. I can’t picture myself dating a cheerleader, even if Scylla’s been flirting with me, which I’m still not sure about. My mother being involved would be too much to take on top of everything else. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I lean my head against the car window, the glass cool against my cheek as I watch us pass through my familiar hometown. I hate it here, but I’ve never known anywhere else. I can’t wait to graduate and find a university halfway across the country.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There is a feeling of undeniable relief once we finally pull into the driveway. Before I can unfasten my seatbelt, my mother is leaning over to undo it for me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, mama,” I murmur sheepishly, managing to open the car door without too much pain. I’m grateful when I see Libba grab my board along with her own, one under each arm as she enters the garage. She leans the boards against the wall and we go inside. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Usually I would immediately go to my room, but this time I make a pit stop for the bathroom, where we keep our first aid kit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Libba helps me wash my hands and pour peroxide over the scratches. It burns like hell and I curse under my breath as it bubbles up against my skin. I dry off as Libba looks through the options, but there’s not much that’s helpful. The tiny Band-Aids won’t do shit. We decide to use some gauze with medical tape and wrap Ace bandages around it to secure it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s not the best, but it works. I guess I won’t be using my hands much for the next day or two.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This means no video games, right?” Libba sounds disappointed as we walk to my bedroom together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I still can’t believe I wiped out like that. I’ve gotten a scrape or two before, but it’s usually my knees or my elbows. I feel bad because I know Libba’s been looking forward to playing with me all day. “For me anyway. You can play one-player.” It’s not really the same playing by yourself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She sighs as she plops down on my bed, running her fingers through her curls. “That sucks about Scylla. I know you were into her.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Honestly, it fucking figures. Can you imagine me dating someone on the squad? It wouldn’t be that big of a deal if my mother wasn’t the coach.” There’s a reason why I don’t call her mama this time. I’m trying to break myself of that habit, at least in front of Libba.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Libba rolls onto her side and looks at me when I approach the bed. “Dude, you know if you really like her, none of that matters,” she tells me as I sit down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t even </span>
  <b>know</b>
  <span> her,” I remind my friend, moving to lay down facing her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Libba’s had enough of my shit. “Then </span>
  <em>
    <span>get to know her</span>
  </em>
  <span>, dumbass. God, you’re never gonna find a girlfriend if you don’t make a move!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes I think life would be easier if we were dating each other,” I admit and she makes a weird face in response.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can’t be serious. We would be...the world’s WORST couple. Not that you’re not cute, babe, you are, but you are definitely not my type.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I laugh out loud as I ask, “Who is?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nobody, at the moment,” Libba thinks about it for a moment, before responding, “But I like a confident girl that can boss me around. Opinionated, independent, and a good sense of humor. Besides, I prefer dark hair.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A huge smirk comes across my face. “I</span>
  <em>
    <span> have </span>
  </em>
  <span>been meaning to dye mine.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Damn, Rae, do you seriously wanna be my girlfriend?” Libba punches me in the arm, but not hard enough to actually hurt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I shake my head. “Ew, no way. I’m just saying. It’d be simple, we already hang out all the time anyway.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ew? EW?! That is offensive! Do you think I’m ugly?” Libba’s hand is over her heart as if I’ve wounded her but I am pretty sure she’s kidding.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Still, I reassure her because I’m worried that she is genuinely hurt by my words. “No! But dating you would be like dating my sister. If I had a sister.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I agree, I just like fucking with you,” she cackles, messing up my hair.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Good enough to hold yours</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>When Libba stays over, she helps Raelle do some investigating on Scylla.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>R.C.—</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The rest of the night goes like it usually does. We smoke some weed, eat a whole pizza, watch dumb movies together and stay up way too late. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Libba stays over, she always shares the bed with me, but it’s not weird, I swear. We do our fair share of platonic cuddling. Neither of us think there’s anything wrong with that, though Libba’s parents remain convinced we’re either secretly dating or in love. It would make me angry if it weren’t so hilarious.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> I’m pretty sure my mother thinks we’re fucking, but she’d never say it out loud. I don’t think she’s homophobic, but she’s not exactly comfortable with my sexuality either. It’s just something we don’t talk about. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Actually, there isn’t much we </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> talk about. Our relationship isn’t the greatest. Her decision to coach the cheerleading squad is a point of contention for me. It’s not about cheerleading. It’s about the fact that she treats the girls on the squad like her daughters, and her pride for them makes me insanely jealous. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She treats them far better than she’s ever treated me. I feel like I have every right to be bitter about that. That’s probably why Scylla going out for the squad bothers me so damn much. I just met her, but I don’t want her to be one of my mother’s girls. As far as I’m concerned, that makes her off limits, regardless of how gorgeous she is.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Libba is not a morning person. When I wake up before her, I know better than to try to wake her up. Last time I tried, she literally hit me in the face. I’m not eager to repeat the experience. She might be little, but she sure can pack a punch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Quietly, I slip out of bed and go to the bathroom, brushing my teeth before I head into the kitchen. Like most weekends, my papa’s in front of the stove, making breakfast. He doesn’t have the time to do it during the week. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>My papa’s a professor at the local university, which means if I choose to go there, I’ll get to go for free. The thing is, I’d rather die than stay here. I haven’t exactly broken the news to my parents about that yet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Morning, papa,” I greet him as I pour myself a cup of coffee. Coffee is a big thing in my family. I’ve been drinking it since I was twelve. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Morning, pumpkin,” his pet names are super lame, but I don’t mind so much. I know he can be embarrassing, but all dads are. I love him a lot, and our relationship has only gotten better the older I get. Sometimes I feel like he had trouble relating to me as a kid. But now, we’re really close. It’s a relief because I couldn’t deal with having two parents who hated me. Not that my mama would ever admit she does. “How many eggs?” He asks and I answer the same way I always do - two. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I don’t know why he asks. I always say the same thing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I take a sip of coffee before putting my head down on the kitchen island. I’m still pretty tired because we were up until four. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Libba still snoozing?” He laughs as he turns the food over with his spatula. Say what you want about my papa, he is a damn good cook. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In most families, it’s the mother who does all the cooking, but not in mine. My mama is completely useless in the kitchen. She burns everything. I take after my papa, thank god. He’s taught me a few things, but I’m not a master chef or anything. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I moan, my head aching as I answer, “Of course. Can you just inject this coffee directly in my veins? I’m so fucking tired.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ve talked about you using that word,” my mama says as she enters the kitchen, giving my papa a kiss, which makes me gag. She thinks using curse words is unfeminine, as if I’ve ever given a single fuck about being feminine.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I can’t help but be snarky. I’m grumpier than usual when I haven’t had my coffee.  “Good morning to you, too, mama.” I sigh and cross my arms, laying on them as I watch her pour her own cup of coffee and add cream &amp; sugar. “You know that everyone talks like that, right? Do you want me to be a freak?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A freak?” She repeats with a snort. “That’s what I thought you were already trying for.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>My blood boils and I clench my teeth as I shoot her the harshest glare I can manage. She always says this shit. Just because I don’t listen to shitty pop music and wear clothes from Forever 21. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That’s not who I am and it’s never gonna be. I feel like she wants me to be someone else. It’s just not in me to pretend, not even if it meant she would actually love me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <em>
    <span>What’s that saying? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I’d rather her hate me for who I am, than love me for who I’m not.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I just wish she would accept me for who I am. She has no idea how much her rejection has screwed me up. I want to go to therapy. I think it would help. But I know she won’t approve of that, either. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I’m just so tired of not feeling good enough. She doesn’t need to waste any more energy hating me. I hate myself enough already.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do I smell bacon?” Grinning, Libba stands in the doorway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The funny thing is, Libba loves bacon. She loves </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>meat, actually, but her parents are vegetarians, and she doesn’t have the heart to tell them she isn’t, so she eats all the meat she can when she comes over. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>My papa never fails to make her Saturday morning bacon. I’m pretty sure that’s why she likes him so much. I can’t blame her. The bacon’s fucking good.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know it,” he chuckles, focusing on the various skillets he’s got going on the stove. It’s this that impresses me most. I’m not sure I have the attention span to cook this many things at once.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As always, breakfast is awesome and I’m so full I feel like I need to take a nap. Libba casually asks my mother about the outcome of last night’s game and I wonder why she even cares. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Apparently, it was a good game, whatever that means. I guess we won. Go team. I roll my eyes as I finish my coffee and start another pot. This feels like a two cup morning.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Libba stays over for most of the day and usually we’d go out to the skatepark in the afternoon, but my hands are still pretty sore. We decide to get out our laptops and I don’t even realize she’s creeping on Scylla’s social media until I glance over and see a picture of her on Libba’s screen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing?!” My voice rises a decibel and she looks over at me in surprise.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She smirks and shrugs her shoulders. “Investigating.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I close my laptop as curiosity gets the best of me and move closer so that I can see the screen over Libba’s shoulder. I bury my chin against her shoulder and sigh as she scrolls through Scylla’s Instagram account.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s so pretty. It’s unfair,” I whine.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Libba points out that she doesn’t have many posts, which she thinks is weird. She has a Facebook page that </span>
  <em>
    <span>might</span>
  </em>
  <span> be more active, but she’s not friends with her so what we can see is pretty limited. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s through Instagram that she finds her Twitter account and as we read through her tweets, it becomes obvious that this is where she spends most of her time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She seems sad,” Libba’s voice is uncharacteristically soft as she scrolls through her profile. “Oh.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” I read slower than Libba, so I haven’t caught up to where she is.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She points at the screen and I lean in closer to read. “Her parents died?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s what she says. Oh, my god, can you imagine?” Libba’s far closer to her parents than I am. I imagine that it’s probably her worst nightmare. I don’t know how close Scylla was to her parents, but that kinda thing would affect anyone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That explains why she’s moved. Scylla is probably living with some family member, or at least I hope. The other options aren’t quite as great. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I feel like I understand her more when we read her tweets, but eventually, it starts to make me feel uncomfortable. The site is public, but I feel like I’m violating her privacy, so I make Libba close it out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At her insistence, I decide to send Scylla a message on her Snapchat account. I’m not sure if her Facebook is active and her Twitter feels too personal. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I don’t know for sure what I’m going to say, but I want to initiate a conversation. Unfortunately, I have to add her as a friend first. Libba’s told me that depending on her settings, I might be able to message her before she adds me, so I try.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Libba watches me as I type, erase, and re-type message after message. She rolls her eyes and grabs my phone, sending a message on my behalf since I can’t make up my mind. She basically just says hey and lets Scylla know it’s me. She doesn’t answer right away and I’m focused on Libba giving me a tarot reading when I get the notification about an hour later.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” I pick up my iPhone and open the notification, trying to ignore the way Libba is staring at me, waiting for me to tell her what Scylla’s response says. She’s added me back, I realize with a grin. “She sent me a selfie. It says ‘how are your hands doing?’” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Libba swipes my phone again before I can protest and when I hear her send another message, I’m very nervous. Looking at my screen proves I had every single right to be. She took a picture of me while I was still smiling and put text over it that says ‘Good enough to hold yours.’ </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s far bolder than I would ever be and I tackle Libba, telling her how much I hate her and what a jerk she is. I don’t really hate her but I am pissed, because her message was way too flirtatious. When I imagine Scylla reading it, I want to go hide under my bed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This is a literal nightmare.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. My potential future girlfriend</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Scylla flirts with Raelle and Libba has some news.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>R.C.—</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t respond for a long time. I’m about to throw Libba out of my house for fucking everything up when the notification finally comes through. I immediately blush and apologize to Libba for being such a bitch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scylla has sent a close up picture of her lips and she has the most beautiful smile. Just looking at it on my phone makes my heart race. All she’s written in response is a bunch of heart emojis. But I’m pretty sure that’s a good thing. I’m not</span>
  <em>
    <span> that </span>
  </em>
  <span>clueless.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She definitely wants to hold your hand, dude,” Libba cackles, “We really should check on ‘em, though.” She helps me unwrap the bandages and removes the gauze.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>My palms aren’t bleeding anymore. They look pretty gross, though, with scabs all over. I won’t be holding Scylla’s hand anytime soon. Not like this. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But I am definitely realizing that NOT liking her is impossible. Even if she likes me back, I feel like things will go horribly wrong because my mother is involved. I have no right to tell Scylla not to go out for the squad, even though I really don’t want her to. All I can hope for is that Hilary takes her place back after her leg heals. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Is that mean? I don’t know. I just know that my mama can’t mind her own business and I don’t want her to be personally involved in my potential future girlfriend’s life. That’s just...weird.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My potential future girlfriend? </span>
  </em>
  <span>I’m getting ahead of myself here. I just can’t help but lose myself in the possibilities. The only girlfriend I’ve ever had was this girl named Jess, who went to another school.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I liked her a lot, but she had to move away. I’ve never been in love before. I can’t imagine how good it must feel. Comparatively, Libba’s had a lot more dating experience than I have. She even dated some guys, though she doesn’t anymore. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They look better,” Libba shrugs, throwing away the gauze and rewrapping the ace bandage around itself. Her phone buzzes against her thigh and she lets out a deep sigh when she sees it’s her mother texting. “Apparently my presence is needed,” she rolls her eyes. “Mom’s working on fulfilling her Etsy orders. Duty calls.” She does a little salute and scrambles to her feet. “Text me later. If you’re not too busy Snapchatting your girlfriend.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With that, she’s gone, and my weekend gets a lot less interesting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before I know it, it’s Monday again and I have a whole week of bullshit to look forward to. I run into Scylla in the hallway when she’s on her way to her audition. She’s wearing the whole cheer outfit and surprisingly, I don’t hate it. She pulls it off in a way I never would have expected.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” I greet her, grimacing because of how stupid I sound.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But she either doesn’t notice or doesn’t mind. “Hi,” is her gently spoken response, paired with a smile as she walks in the opposite direction down the hallway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All she’s said is hi, but I can’t stop thinking about her, tripping over my untied laces on the way to class.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At lunch, Libba and I sit together at our usual table in the back. No one ever comes over, so when Scylla brings her tray over, everyone stares. She looks at me, then at Libba, before asking, “Can I sit here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She could’ve chosen any other table. I heard she made the squad. They have their own table right in the center, and every single cheerleader is watching Scylla, except for Tally. She cares too much about her lunch to notice what everyone else is doing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>My mouth is hanging open a little and I don’t answer the question. Libba punches me in the shoulder. “Oh- I, yes, yeah, definitely.” I’m grateful to her for hitting me, as it’s shocked me back to reality. We exchange a look as Scylla takes a seat beside me. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, how’s day number two?” Libba asks, filling the silence with ease. She’s much more sociable than me. I’m still trying to figure out something normal to say.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scylla picks at her pears with her plastic spork. “Not bad. I made the squad,” she pauses, wrinkling her nose, “It’s...weird. I never thought I’d be a cheerleader.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Speaking of that,” Libba has a brilliant segue. “Coach Quartermaine came up to me after P.E. She wants me to consider playing for the team.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I furrow my brows, repeating her words with confusion. “The...team?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jesus, Rae, the football team. She said they need a sub. Something to do with Adil and his knees, I dunno. I think I might do it,” she narrows her gaze, looking at me nervously. “Is...that okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scylla turns to me, not understanding why Libba’s running her choices by me. It makes me feel like an asshole.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What? Of course, Libba, if you want to do it, go for it,” I manage to encourage her without stammering, which is hard to do with Scylla staring at me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scylla smiles after swallowing a sporkful of peas. “It would be nice cheering for you, Libba. I’ll cheer extra hard for you,” she winks and I feel a pang of jealousy because she sounds almost flirtatious. “I don’t know anyone on the team. The cheerleaders seem nice though. Especially...shit, I am so bad with names. Tammy?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tally?” I correct, lifting my brows at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. That’s it. God, </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> tell her I called her Tammy,” she laughs nervously. “She seems really sweet. You know how the stereotype is that cheerleaders are all bitchy...I think that’s probably why I’ve always kinda, you know, steered clear.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I nod in understanding, not really wanting to tell her that most of the girls on the squad are bitches, save for Tally. “Stick with Tally. She’s a good one,” I murmur, finishing my rectangular pizza, one of the better things the cafeteria has. “We used to be best friends when we were little. We still talk, occasionally. She’s at my house a lot. The whole squad is. Training with my mom and stuff.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Does that mean I’ll be seeing you a lot?” Scylla puts down her pint of chocolate milk and smiles at me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean, yeah…” I shrug my shoulders, blushing a bit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Libba is super quiet as she watches us interact. Before I can say something, I nearly lose my shit when I see who is coming toward our table. That is probably why Libba has such a strange look on her face. Abigail Bellweather’s eyes drift across each of our faces, but she only speaks to Libba.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Swythe. Tryouts tonight. Don’t make me look bad.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frowning, I push away my tray of food and glance over at Libba. “What the fuck was that?” I can’t help but laugh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh, I’m guessing because she’s the only girl on the team. She doesn’t want me to make her look bad by sucking?” She rolls her eyes. “As if I give a fuck what Bedwetter thinks of me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I kick her hard. “Libba!” I told her that story in confidence and it isn’t fair for her to bring it up in front of Scylla. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>call her that. Seriously. She will kill me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m guessing I shouldn’t ask?” Scylla murmurs, looking at each of us in amusement. “She seems nice,” she declares sarcastically, snickering before leaning in closer to Libba. “You’re small, but you seem fierce. I think you can take her.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I’m not so sure about that.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. I heard this rumor</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Scylla asks Raelle about some rumors. Raelle catches up with her childhood friends.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> R.C.— </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The rest of the day is boring, though in last period, I discover that Scylla and I have Spanish class together. When we’re asked to team up to have conversations in Spanish, Scylla hops into the empty desk next to mine.</p><p> </p><p>“Hola,” she greets with a grin, then she bites her lip, her eyes on mine. “Eres hermosa.”</p><p> </p><p>Fuck. I<em> suck</em> at Spanish. I vaguely remember the word, but not what it means. I just smile before we start our required discussion about the foods we like. It isn’t until our teacher reconvenes the group that I have a chance to look up ‘hermosa.’ My face goes red when I realize she was telling me I’m beautiful.</p><p> </p><p>When the bell finally rings, my classmates can’t get out of the room fast enough. Scylla waits for me and my stomach twists predictably. I’m not sure what’s happening between us. I want to think she likes me, too, but she might just be a flirtatious person. I don’t get why she’d be into me. I’m not exactly well liked.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey,” her voice is quiet as I approach her desk and I look into her blue eyes, knowing I am officially completely crushing on this girl. “Can I ask you something? Um, I know I don’t know you that well, and it’s probably none of my business. But I heard this rumor about you.”</p><p> </p><p>My stomach drops. It could be anything, I tell myself, but I know what she’s about to ask me. “Yeah, sure,” I mutter, though I don’t know how she’s going to react to my answer.</p><p> </p><p>Our teacher gives us a look, clearly ready to leave the room herself. Scylla and I scramble out into the hallway and she lowers her voice, barely audible over the loud students in the hall. “Is it true that you’re gay?”</p><p> </p><p>Yeah. That’s what I thought. “Uh, yeah, it’s true. I hope that doesn’t,  like, gross you out or anything…” I don’t meet her eyes, stopping in front of my locker.</p><p> </p><p>“No. It doesn’t,” she assures me, and then she brushes her fingers against my hand. My heart stops. “At my old school, I was the only one who was out. It wasn’t a good experience. I guess I just wanted to know if it was safe to tell people here.”</p><p> </p><p>I swallow because I don’t want to tell her the truth. I am pretty sure there are more gay students than just the three of us, but our experiences haven’t been good. Anyone else is probably just biding their time. “That’s your choice. If you’re asking about my experiences...Yeah. I get a lot of shit for it. So do Libba and Byron.”</p><p> </p><p>“Libba?” She repeats quietly. “Oh. She’s- I didn’t- is she your girlfriend?”</p><p> </p><p>I laugh out loud, then clamp my hand over my mouth. “Sorry. No. No, and she never will be.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, okay. Good.”</p><p> </p><p><em>Good? GOOD?! What?</em> I’m smiling like an idiot as I try to remember my locker combination. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m sure that’s not what you wanted to hear. But people around here aren’t exactly nice to anyone that’s different. Do what you want, but I don’t know how the squad would react, if they knew that you’re…” It occurs to me I don’t know her sexuality, only her insinuation that she’s gay.</p><p> </p><p>She finishes for me, whispering, “Bisexual.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay. Well, I won’t tell anyone,” I promise, before faltering. “Not even Libba, if you don’t want me to.”</p><p> </p><p>She’s my best friend. It won’t be an easy secret to keep, especially considering how excited I am to have confirmation that Scylla isn’t straight, but it’s not my place to out her to anyone, even if Libba would never tell anybody.</p><p> </p><p>Scylla grins as I struggle to get my locker open. She steps forward, slams her fist into it, then pulls it open with ease. “You can tell Libba. I should get going. My foster dad’s gonna be pissed if I’m late again.”</p><p> </p><p>“Right. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow.”</p><p> </p><p>She nods before disappearing down the hallway. Maybe it’s not a huge deal, but Scylla’s told me some things about herself, which means she must trust me. I’m starting to feel hopeful as I start down the hall, my Airpods in with Japanese rock music blaring. I’m on cloud nine so I’m distracted, seeing his foot a moment too late, after I’m already tripping over his sneaker.</p><p> </p><p>I’m not clumsy, I swear. I fall onto my knees and Adil actually laughs, which pisses me off. I don’t know if he’s tripped me on purpose or not, but his reaction isn’t cool. Before I can make a scathing quip, I’m being pulled to my feet.</p><p> </p><p>It takes me a second to realize it’s Abigail who’s helping me up.</p><p> </p><p>She tells the guys off and they scramble to get away from her, looking genuinely terrified. Honestly, I’m in shock but I’m impressed. Abigail knows how to clear a room. She looks at me and in her eyes I can see the Abs that I used to know.</p><p> </p><p>“You okay?” She asks with genuine concern.</p><p> </p><p>Wow. I haven’t seen the softer side of Abigail Bellweather in years. I thought maybe this part of her was gone, but now I recognize that even though she’s had to make herself tougher, she’s still in there.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” I nod, brushing the dirt off of my black skinny jeans. <em>When was the last time they cleaned the hallway?</em> <em>Disgusting.</em> “I’m fine. Thanks.”</p><p> </p><p>We stand awkwardly together in the hallway and her eyes on me make me nervous. “I should go,” she says after a long, awkward silence.</p><p> </p><p>It feels like there’s something she wants to say, but she’s stopping herself. There are so many things I could say. Starting with an apology. But I don’t. She doesn’t. We both force a smile and take off in opposite directions, Abigail presumably heading toward the locker room. It’s nearly time for Libba’s tryout. </p><p> </p><p>I’m considering staying behind to support her. I know this is important to her, even if she’s playing it off like it isn’t. I can’t help but be a little jealous, though. If she joins the team, she’s going to have a lot less free time. I don’t know what I’ll do without her to hang out with. I know this is selfish, but I don’t have a lot of solo hobbies. </p><p> </p><p>Glancing in my bag, I realize I’ve forgotten my Spanish book. I’m pretty sure Señora Izadora assigned some homework questions and I can’t afford to fuck up my grade any further. I think I have a C right now, and if I don’t bring it up, I’m going to end up grounded.</p><p> </p><p>On my way back to my locker, a thought occurs to me. Maybe Scylla could be my tutor. But then I remind myself she’s new to the school and probably busy trying to get caught up herself...yet her Spanish is much better than mine, so it’s a possibility. There’s also the fact that I <em> might </em> be too distracted to learn from her.</p><p> </p><p>“Rae,” I hear my name as I make it to my locker and I turn around, surprised to find Tally standing there. Twice in one day.</p><p> </p><p>I shove my book into my backpack and close my locker, putting my bag on the floor at my feet. “Hey, Tally. How’s it going?”</p><p> </p><p>“Um…” She shrugs and I can tell by the look on her face that she’s upset. “Not great.”</p><p> </p><p>She’s such a happy person that seeing her sad is really painful. We’re not even close anymore and I’m not a big hugger under most circumstances, but I really want to hug her anyway. “Want to talk about it?”</p><p> </p><p>Tally wipes her eyes and I now realize she’s been crying. “It’s…” She laughs bitterly. “It’s not that big of a deal, but I got detention. Saturday detention.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?! You?”</p><p> </p><p>I can hardly believe it. Tally’s an angel who’s never done anything wrong in her life. It’s hard to imagine what she could’ve possibly done to warrant getting Saturday detention, which is <em> way </em> worse than lunch detention. Tally’s parents are pretty strict (see: religious), so they’re going to be upset with her. That’s probably why she’s freaking out so much. I feel bad for her.</p><p> </p><p>She nods sadly. “Yeah. I got caught letting Glory copy off of me. It was stupid. I never should’ve said yes, but you know me.”</p><p> </p><p>This explanation doesn’t surprise me. I lean against my locker as I look at her. “Too nice for your own good. Did she get detention, too?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, she did.”</p><p> </p><p>That’s good, at least. It’d be shitty if Tally was the only one getting punished. But Tally still looks pretty upset. The halls are empty, so I very hesitantly ask, “Do you need a hug?”</p><p> </p><p>Her voice is tiny as she whispers, “Yeah.”</p><p> </p><p>I knew it. Tally hasn’t changed at all. I find that comforting to know. I pull her into my arms and she wraps her arms around me tightly. We hug for what feels like forever and eventually, I begin to pull away. I’m pretty sure nobody’s seen us together and it’s not like it’s a secret that we used to be close, but I know people would stare if they saw us hugging like that. </p><p> </p><p>I’m not the kind of person Tally is supposed to spend time with. Her parents unilaterally made that decision long ago when I started dressing the way I do now and getting interested in Wicca. When I came to Tally’s house with some Tarot cards, that was the last straw. I was banned from the Craven home after that and it still hurts. Both me and Tally. I can see that now in the way she’s looking at me.</p><p> </p><p>I hate that things changed so much. I miss the way things used to be.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. A lot of good stories</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After joining the football team, Libba gets to know Abigail.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>In case you haven't noticed, chapters in Raelle's point of view begin with R.C. and as of this chapter, we're going to delve into Libba's POV. Please take note of these prior to reading the chapter so you're not confused during POV switches. The one hazard of writing first person is only seeing one perspective, so I needed other POVs to show more. As of now, I only intend to switch between these two.</p><p>Trigger warning for the use of homophobic slurs.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>L.S.—</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Am I really doing this?</span>
  </em>
  <span>  It was stupid to think I could really be on the team. The field looks a lot more intimidating when you’re about to play on it. Abigail waves at me and I wave back, certain this is the first time she’s ever smiled at me. I know Rae and her used to be friends, but I’m pretty sure Abigail doesn't like me. I’ve sure pissed her off with my stupid comments in class enough times for that to be the case.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I don’t always think before I speak or before I act. I’ve said and done a lot of idiotic shit. I can own that. But right now? The confidence I usually feel is gone. I’m surrounded by dudes, and Abigail. I know all of them could kick my ass to Sunday. I don’t know anything about football. Nothing. I know there’s ball kicking and throwing. That’s about it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I do know that Adil is the kicker and that's the position I'm supposed to be playing. Coach Quartermaine explained that to me, and she’d said that I’d be great to fill in for the position because I’m small and fast. I’m still not so sure about all this. I’m not exactly a team player.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I learn the first play and get in place, trying to do as instructed. Adil even helps me out and surprisingly, I don’t suck. My legs have always been powerful and muscular. I grew up playing soccer, love to run and spend a lot of time on my skateboard. Even Abigail seems to be impressed when all is said &amp; done. I’ve gotten the spot on the team, which means I’ll be staying for practice tonight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I send Raelle a quick text to let her know the outcome, just in case she’s waiting up for me. I know her pretty well, I guess, because it turns out she was. She acts happy for me, but I’m almost certain she’s disappointed in me. We’ve always hated stupid things like football.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even though I act like I don’t give a shit what people think of me, I do. But that’s only human, isn’t it? It’s human nature to want to be liked. I used to think it was only Raelle’s opinion that mattered to me. I don’t necessarily want to be popular, but it would be nice if people didn’t call me a dyke and trip me in the hallways.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The guys on the team don’t like me, especially Adil. That much is clear, though they’re being cordial under Coach’s watchful eye. Once practice is over, I feel like I’m fucking dying. I’ve never worked this hard in my life and I’m pretty sure I’ve never smelled this bad either.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Abigail claps me on the shoulder. “Good job. Us girls ought to stick together.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, yeah,” I agree as we walk to the locker rooms together. “Honestly, I thought you didn’t like me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Honestly? I don’t even know you,” she points out astutely, smirking. “I’m not crazy about having to share the locker room with you, but I don’t dislike you. You know Raelle and I used to be close, right? I guess part of me...has always been jealous of your friendship.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I can’t believe she’s telling me this. This is the most Abigail has spoken to me in my entire life, despite us being in the same grade ever since I moved here a few years ago. I don’t know what to say, but it’s nice to see that beneath that tough exterior, she’s just a normal person.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, it’s not really my place to say this, but I know she misses you guys. You and Tally. She’s told me a lot of stories.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We reach the locker room and she looks over at me with a sad smile. “There are a lot of good stories.” That’s the closest she comes to admitting she misses Raelle, too, but I can see it in her eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Abigail starts undressing without warning and I quickly look away, blushing like mad. Am I really expected to take a shower with her? This is super weird. But I can’t put my clothes back on smelling like this, so I peel off my clothes and reluctantly get showered. My gaze does drift a few times. I just hope Abigail doesn’t notice. The last thing I need is for her to beat the shit out of me for looking at her naked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s even hotter than I imagined.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not that I imagined her naked. That would be weird.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>God, if Raelle knew what I was thinking right now, she’d be so pissed off at me. None of this matters anyway. As far as I know, Abigail is straight, and even if she wasn’t, having a thing for her is a bad idea, times ten.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She does have a nice ass, though. <em>Objectively speaking.</em></span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you want to run drills sometime, text me,” Abigail says as she dries her hair, taking her time and not seeming at all ashamed about her body.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I get dressed quickly, my back turned to her because otherwise I’ll be too tempted to look. “How can I text you? I don’t have your number.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Abigail appears in front of me, I’m grateful that she now has most of her clothes on. She holds out her hand expectantly for my phone, which I unlock and hand to her. She puts her number in and deposits my phone into my palm, her eyes lingering on mine. I feel a spark between us, but maybe it’s all in my head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m too gay for this. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I make up some stupid excuse about having to go, just because I know if I spend another moment with her in the locker room, I’ll end up doing something stupid. When I’m out in the open again, I feel like I can breathe. I check my phone and I have about a thousand missed calls from my parents.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fuck, I forgot to tell them about tryouts &amp; practice. They have no idea where I am. The coach told me at school today so I didn’t really get a chance to text them, and now I’m pretty sure my mom thinks I’m dead. I’ve got a dozen texts, the last just says my name in all capitals.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I call her back and she sounds relieved. “Elizabeth?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I wince. She’s the only person who calls me that. I hate it so much.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mom, I’m fine. I’m sorry. I was asked to come to try out for the football team and I completely forgot to tell you…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She sounds surprised just as I knew she’d be. “The football team? Don’t you need our permission for that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh, yes. I have a permission slip, so I hope you’ll sign it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>My mother laughs out loud. “We’ll talk about it when you get home.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I know I’ve got my work cut out for me. The thing is, I’m a model child for all they know, and they have no reason to deny me. Especially since they’ve been begging me to find a hobby for the past three years. Besides, I can be </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> convincing. They let me get my septum pierced just a few months ago. It looks fucking awesome, but everyone at school is constantly calling me “bulldyke.” Honestly, I <em>really</em> should’ve seen that one coming.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Honestly, as far as parents go, I’m pretty fucking lucky. Sure, they can be annoying and weird like most parents, but they’re huge hippies and they aren’t strict at all. From what I’ve heard about Tally, her parents are like the direct opposite of mine. I would die if I had religious parents who didn’t let me do anything. I’m legit shocked they even let her cheer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I didn’t bring my board with me to school today so I hoof it and it suuuucks. My whole body hurts and by the time I make it home, I feel like collapsing. Practice kicked my ass, but I gotta bring my A game with my parents if I want to convince them to let me play.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If you’d have told me a week ago that I’d end up begging my parents to let me join the football team, I would’ve said you were high as fuck. I’m beginning to learn that maybe I don’t know myself as well as I thought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Elizabeth,” I hear my mother call my name down the hall as I carry my shit to my room and I sigh, dropping everything but the permission slip on the bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Coming!” I shout, but I don’t make it a point to hurry because my legs are sore as hell. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When I make it to the living room, my parents are lounging together on the couch, Dad’s arm slung casually around Mom’s shoulder. They can be annoying, but the love they have between them is something I aspire to. My Dad looks at her like she hung the moon. I’d kill for someone to look at me like that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looks at me as I drop down into one of the army green armchairs that I’m pretty sure they got at a secondhand store. “Mom and I have been talking about the football thing. We came to a decision. A compromise,” he says, and I sit up in the chair straighter than ever, curiosity plainly written on my face. “You can join the team if we can attend your games, and if you end up hurt, you will have to quit.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even I can admit it’s a fair deal.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay. One, can you try not to embarrass me at the games? And two, what qualifies as ending up hurt? Are we talking bloody nose, broken toes, concussion…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It never hurts to seek some clarification. Mom jumps in eagerly to answer me. “A bloody nose isn’t that big of a deal. Bruises and scrapes we can handle. A sprain, I’m not crazy about, but if it just happens once, okay. Anything broken or any concussion, anything that affects your precious brain...you’re done.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I can’t help but snort. “My precious brain?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She gets up and comes to me, wrapping her arms around me and pressing a kiss to my forehead. I’m not into this ooey gooey love shit, but I let her do it anyway. “Yes. Concussions are common in football, and you’re playing with boys. You’re very little, and I’m not crazy about the idea, but if you can stay safe and you’re happy, that’s what matters.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I actually hug her, my smile wide once we part, thrusting the permission slip and a pen into her hands without missing a beat. She rolls her eyes at my excitement, but I turn around and she signs the slip against my back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t make me regret this.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I promise sweetly, "I won't."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If I wasn't so tired I would do a victory dance. I expected this to be a lot harder, but I suspect it's my dad who went to bat for me with mom. I'll need to get him a badass Father's Day gift this year. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>I head back upstairs to put the slip in my bag, not wanting to forget it, and stop to look at myself in the mirror. I look as exhausted as I feel, but I can't stop smiling. I'm a football player now! God, I hope I don't embarrass myself too much.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Pretend it never happened</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Libba can't say no to Abigail's puppy dog eyes.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Trigger warning for drug use.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>L.S.—</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s lunch time on Tuesday and Raelle is nowhere to be found. Suspiciously I look around the cafeteria, realizing that Scylla isn’t around either. They’ve snuck off together, I realize with a pang of jealousy, not because I feel that way about Rae, but because I don’t like sharing my best friend. It doesn’t help that I’m hopelessly single.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The taco in a bag we’re having for lunch looks pitiful but I resign myself to eating it when Abigail drops down across from me with her specially boxed lunch that she’d brought from home. I’m pretty sure she has a personal chef that makes her little bento boxes. She eats like a goddamn queen. But honestly? To me, she kinda <em>is</em> one.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I have always admired Abigail from afar, never really having the courage to talk to her because she’s so damn intimidating. But ever since yesterday, I can’t seem to get her out of her mind. I don’t know her well, only know what people say and what I’ve seen over the past few years, but she’s got it all: beauty, brains and brawn. A combination that <em>literally never</em> happens.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That’s why I’m convinced she’s straight. Otherwise, she’d be the perfect woman, and life just isn’t like that. I’ve only ever seen her date guys, and none of them were ever really worthy of her. She treats them like toys, not like someone special, and she goes through them quicker than anyone I’ve seen. I think it’s difficult to hold her interest, or maybe she’s just picky, I don’t know. I'm not trying to shame her or anything. If anything, it's impressive. I can't imagine getting one person to like me, let alone several.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s sitting across from me, wearing her JROTC uniform and unpacking her fancy lunch. I try not to stare, eating my pathetic fake taco meat and Doritos without a complaint. She’s so beautiful, in that maddening way where she doesn’t even have to try. Abigail wears makeup sometimes, but usually, probably because of football, she doesn’t. It doesn’t matter what she wears, because she always looks flawless. I’ve never seen so much as a pimple on her face. Some people get all the fucking luck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Swythe. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Swythe!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Are you listening to me or not?” She sounds pissed. <em>Fuck.</em> I zoned out and had no idea she was even talking to me. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I shrug my shoulders sheepishly, hoping she isn’t too mad. “Sorry. Distracted.” But honestly, the angry way she’s looking at me is pretty hot, and I’m staring at her lips and getting distracted all over again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I said that I’ve been really stressed lately, and I’ve heard..” She drops her voice and leans in closer. “That marijuana can help with that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I laugh because I can’t believe what she’s saying to me right now. <em>She’s seriously never tried smoking weed before?</em> Abigail’s even more of a goody-two-shoes than I ever could have guessed! “Yeah, it can, but I’m not, like, a dealer or anything.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“God, no,” she looks embarrassed which is a different look on her. “I’m not asking you to sell me…” She can’t even say the word. “I thought maybe you had some we could try together.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What? <em>Now?</em>” I put down my spork and give her an inquisitive stare. “Is this a test?” I ask, not quite sure if I trust her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She could be doing this to rat me out and get me off the team. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, shit,</span>
  </em>
  <span> I realize, </span>
  <em>
    <span>what if the coach drug tests me? </span>
  </em>
  <span>I don’t exactly have a prescription, but the weed helps me take the edge off of both my anxiety and ADHD. I never considered the possibility that smoking could fuck up my chances of being on the team, but now I am worried.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Abigail shakes her head, closing her lunch box and letting out a sigh. “We’re in this together now, Libba. I wouldn’t do that. I just need a break, you know? I have all this pressure on me, from all sides. Coach, my parents, hell, most of it comes from me. I just need to chill out for once. Please? I want to do this with someone I trust.” Her face softens and my heart beats a little faster.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span><em>Oh, no. I can’t say no to that face.</em> She’s giving me puppy dog eyes. <em>Unfair! I’m such a gay goddamn sucker, what the fuck?!</em></span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Someone she trusts. <em>She trusts me? Ugh.</em> I’ve gone my whole high school career without smoking weed on campus but I guess I’m about to break all the rules for a pretty girl. <em>Fucking typical Libba bullshit, I swear.</em></span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, fine,” I mumble, predictably giving in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She claps her hands and I grin, because she’s just so cute that it takes me by surprise. Abigail has always been this untouchable, intimidating, kinda scary person, but now that I’m sitting across from her, talking with her like a normal person, I’m realizing how stupid I’ve been. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I don’t know how Rae will feel about me hanging with her former best friend. I still don’t know the whole story about what happened between them. But she has to know that being on the team together means we’ll get friendly. I just hope it doesn’t cause problems. With a sigh, I throw away what remains of my tray and lead Abigail around to the back alley.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>While I’m not a good girl by any means, I’ve never done something like this at school before. I’m legit nervous but I don’t want her to know that. I try to appear like a badass as I grab the altoids tin from the bottom of my bag. We both sit down against the brick wall and I take out my rolling papers and lighter, feeling Abigail’s gaze on me and trying my best to ignore it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I roll a joint with expert care, one of my best if I do say so myself, and I walk Abigail through it before I light it and take a hit, head leaning back against the wall as I hold in my breath, then exhale. The smoke billows out of my mouth and I show off a little, blowing a smoke ring or two. Abigail laughs joyfully, moving closer to me. Her fingers brush mine as she takes the joint, placing it between her lips. I lean forward and light it for her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A moment later and she’s coughing and sputtering, her eyes watering like crazy. I feel terrible, but I can’t help but laugh. I grab my water bottle out of my bag and offer it to her. She drains it and then breathes heavy before apologizing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay. I coughed the first time, too. It happens,” I reassure her before taking the joint back from between her fingers. “If you want I can shotgun it for you.” Honestly, I can’t even believe I’m suggesting it. Maybe I just want an excuse to be close to her. That’s probably it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her brows furrow and she reaches back to fix her ponytail. “What does </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>mean?”</span>
  <em>
    <span> Oh, you sweet summer child,</span>
  </em>
  <span> I want to say, feeling like a corrupting influence on her, but realizing I like it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I take a hit and blow it into your mouth. The smoke gets you high still, but you don’t have to inhale it like you do if you’re smoking it yourself,” I explain as calmly as I can, but the thought of having her lips that close to mine has my hand shaking a little bit already.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Abigail nods, smiling softly. “Yeah, okay. Let’s do it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I spark it up, directing her to lean in close before I take my hit. I breathe the smoke into her mouth and she closes hers, taking it in with ease. She wants me to do it again, so I do, but what happens next takes me by surprise.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You know, I’m not certain this isn’t a dream. It doesn’t feel <em>real. </em></span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As she kisses me, I keep waiting to wake up, but it doesn’t happen. Her fingers in my hair feel real, as does her tongue parting my lips. I melt against her, really beginning to enjoy it as I kiss her back. She pulls away suddenly and I realize she’s looking at something, so I turn my head to see the last person I want to be here right now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s Coach Quartermaine and boy, does she look furious. Not with the kissing, I don’t think she cares about that, but she’s spotted the joint, the lighter, all of it, and she isn’t happy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to pretend I didn’t see this, for the team’s sake, but this is your one chance. You two have Saturday detention, and you’re running a hundred laps today. If I ever catch you with this shit again, you are done. Got it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span><em>Holy shit, she’s scary</em>. I’m nodding and so is Abigail, both of us shaken as we shove my things back into my bag.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She glares at us as we get to our feet, ashamed of being caught. Coach continues her lecture, making me flinch with the sharpness of her tone. I think she missed her calling as a drill sergeant. “I don’t care what you do at home on your own time, ladies. God knows half the team smokes the shit. But don’t do it here. You’re lucky it was me who found you. Had it been anyone else, you’d have your butts in the principal’s office, about to get some kind of drug charges.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bell rings and we’re about to head back to class when Abigail grabs my hand, stopping me in my tracks. There’s a look of genuine concern on her face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I- can we...just pretend none of that happened?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>None of it. <em>Not even the kiss? Oh, boy</em>. We’ve got a case of buyer’s remorse here. It hurts to hear her say it, but what am I gonna say? <em>No?</em></span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah, sure, it’s already forgotten,” I assure her with the realest looking fake smile I can muster, though all I want to do is cry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I thought maybe this was the start of something, but it was just a moment. A lapse in judgment. Nothing more. I was an idiot to think someone like Abigail would ever want to kiss someone like me. I know I need to get to class, but I make a pit stop for the bathroom, heading into a stall to get the crying out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When I’m finished, I unlock the door and go wash my hands, running into Tally Craven in the process. She dries off her hands and looks at me over her shoulder, hesitating, and I’m just rinsing the soap off when she turns back around.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you okay?” She asks kindly. “I wasn’t trying to spy or anything, but I heard you crying…If you wanna talk about it, we could-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I turn off the water and dry my hands, interrupting her before she can finish her sentence. “I’m fine. I don’t need to talk about anything.” I say it so sharply that I can see the hurt on her face, so I quickly add, “Sorry. I just don’t want to talk about it. I’ll be okay. Thanks.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right. Well, if you change your mind…” Tally’s so sweet that I don’t know how to take her.<em> Just be a bitch to me, please, I don’t know how to respond to kindness</em>. “I should get to class.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We both should.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I already got Saturday detention, which is gonna be hard enough to explain to my parents. I can’t get into any more trouble for being tardy. Luckily, class is close and I just make it in when the bell rings again. Raelle looks at me when I enter and rolls her eyes before turning back toward the whiteboard. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I take my usual seat beside her and suddenly feel very awkward. I really want to tell her about what happened with Abigail, but she told me to pretend like it never happened. Besides, I don’t know how Raelle will react. I’m desperate to ask if she’d ever had any inkling she wasn’t straight, since they used to be friends. But instead I’m just stuck sitting there, biting the shit out of my nails.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dude, are you high?” She whispers and I curse under my breath because she knows me too well.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I shrug my shoulders and avoid her gaze because I don’t have a cover story. Instead I pay really close attention to our math teacher and try to ignore the hole Raelle’s eyes are burning into my head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s gonna ask me about it later and I don’t know what to say. I’ve never had to lie to my best friend before. I don’t like it.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Her kisses are magic</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Libba &amp; Abigail get closer.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>L.S.—</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just as I expected, Raelle ambushes me after class. I don’t blame her for being worried. I’ve never done anything like this before. I’m getting my things out of my locker as she stands there, hand on her hip, looking genuinely concerned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is something wrong?” She asks with a frown and I realize she thinks that something bad must have happened for me to smoke at school.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I have to reassure her and I don’t want to lie, so maybe I’ll just leave out some details. “No, it was dumb. My friend was feeling anxious and she wanted to try smoking because she thought it would help.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your </span>
  <em>
    <span>friend</span>
  </em>
  <span>? What friend? My god, Libba, what if you got caught?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I can’t help but grimace because little does she know, I did get caught. I don’t answer her first question because if I do, I’ll have to lie. “We</span>
  <em>
    <span> did</span>
  </em>
  <span> get caught. Saturday detention, that’s all. Don’t look at me like that, Rae, I’m not gonna do it again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Saturday detention? You got off easy,” she remarks, her eyes still on me. “You’re not going to tell me who it was, are you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I sigh and shake my head. “I promised her I wouldn’t tell anyone.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That seems to be good enough for her, because she doesn’t pry anymore. I don’t feel great leaving things with Raelle like this, but I have to get to practice. We part ways and I walk down the hall, thinking about what the hell I’m going to say to Abigail when I see her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When I make it to the locker room, I get a uniform of my own from Coach Quartermaine. I’ve been looking forward to this. I’m nearly changed by the time Abigail enters. She’s avoiding my gaze as she goes to her locker to grab her own uniform and get changed out of the ROTC getup she’s wearing. We finish getting dressed in silence and head out to the field. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The coach makes good on her promise, the two of us running extra laps, and by the time practice is over, I feel like I’m gonna die. Even more than yesterday. God, I hope my stamina improves, because this is horrible. There’s no avoiding Abigail when we go back to the locker room. We’re both sweaty and smelly. Neither of us can afford to skip a shower.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Open showers are the worst idea ever, I bemoan as I peel off my uniform, stuffing it in my bag to be washed. I get cleaned up, turned away from Abigail, but very aware of the fact that she could be staring at my ass. I kinda want her to, actually. I’m super confused about what happened today and I don’t know what to do. After turning off the water, I wrap myself in a towel and walk across the tile, feeling my teammate’s eyes on me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Libba?” She calls after me, a towel wrapped around her body, too,<em> thank fuck.</em> “Can...we talk?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I nod, taking a seat on the bench and turning toward her when she sits down next to me. I’ve never seen her nervous like this. <em>Is it because of me? Do I make her nervous?</em> That’s hard to imagine.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I don’t say anything, giving her the time to think. After a moment, she finally meets my eyes. “I wanted to apologize for what happened earlier. I think I just got caught up in the moment, you know? I just wanted to make sure that things won’t be weird between us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to apologize. It’s not a big deal,” I say, though I’m hurt and wondering if she regrets kissing me, what she’s really thinking right now. “I won’t be weird if you don’t.” I’m resorting to humor because that’s what I do when I’m hurting. I don’t know how else to react. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Abigail actually smiles, before murmuring, “I’d really like it if we could be friends.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, me too,” I agree with a smile of my own. “I kinda thought we already were.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She laughs, tucking a strand of wet hair behind her ear. “No, we are. I just meant I’d like to hang out with you sometime. Outside of school and practice. If you want to, I mean.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I want to.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe I answered too quickly, but she doesn’t seem to mind. “This weekend?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure, yeah, that’d be cool,” I try to stay casual, not let her see how excited I am about the prospect of hanging out with her this weekend.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She hesitates before asking, “How do you feel about parties?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Love them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cool. I’ll text you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And she does text me later that night. We stay up half the night just talking about anything &amp; everything. She talks a lot about her parents and their expectations for her. All the pressure and how she’s not sure if she can take it anymore. I mostly listen, and feel grateful that she trusts me enough to open up like this. There’s no mention of the kiss or of her sexuality at all. I try to pretend it never happened but as I lay there in bed, eyes squeezed shut with my phone laying on my chest, just in case it vibrates again, all I can think about is her lips against mine. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I’m picky. Always have been. Liking someone for me is a super rare thing, and I can’t stop it once it’s started. This is going to end up with me being hurt, I know it. Abigail is too good for me. I <em>know</em> that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When I wake up the next morning, I feel like complete shit. My head and body are aching and my forehead is all sweaty. My stomach feels queasy and I’m just so tired. I don’t get out of bed at the usual time, so my mom comes to check on me. She’s concerned and tells me to stay home, calling the school to let them know I’ll be out today. If it’s more than just today, she’ll get a doctor’s note. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>God, I hope I don’t feel like this tomorrow. She gets me all I need, promises to come back to bring me soup for lunch and presses a kiss to my forehead. Under normal circumstances, I’d be thrilled to have the house to myself but today I feel like dying. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I shoot a text to Raelle first letting her know I won’t be there and to let me know what I miss. She promises to do so, then I send a message to Abigail asking her to tell the coach for me. I feel terrible about missing practice but there’s no way I’m gonna be able to run across a field without projectile vomiting. She texts me back more quickly than I anticipate.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sorry you’re not feeling well. I hope you’re better in time for the party on Saturday. I’d really like to see you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>My heart thumps loudly in my chest and I can feel my face flushing. I’m already fevered as it is but texting with Abigail doesn’t really help.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>I’m sure I will be. That’s days away. Between that and Saturday detention, we’ll basically be spending the whole day together lol</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That doesn’t sound so bad, actually! </span>
  </em>
  <span>😉 </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hey- Can I come by at lunch?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>What? 😱 You’re going to sneak off campus? You don’t need to do that. I wouldn’t want you to get caught. You’re not allowed to become a delinquent for me! ❌</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t be so dramatic. </span>
  </em>
  <span>🙄 </span>
  <em>
    <span>No one will notice and besides, I get away with so much shit you don’t even know. My parents give the school so much $$$ lmao I doubt they’d care. I’m gonna come see you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Idk, might be contagious. 😷🤒🤧🤮</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll risk it </span>
  </em>
  <span>😈</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>God you’re stubborn aren’t you?</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yup</span>
  </em>
  <span> 🥴 </span>
  <em>
    <span>See ya later, Swythe!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Have a good day, Bellweather…</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I roll over onto my side, smiling as I think about her insistence to come over. I know I probably look like shit and I should probably get cleaned up but I don’t have the energy to. I fall in and out of sleep, waking to an apologetic call from my mother. She isn’t able to come by for lunch but I don’t mind, letting her know a friend is dropping by to check on me. She assumes I mean Raelle and I don’t correct her, hugging my pillow to my chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once I hang up, I find something to watch on Netflix but apparently I doze off again, waking myself up when I start snoring loudly.<em> Well, that’s fucking embarrassing.</em> I’ve drooled on my pillow and I hurriedly flip it over when I get a text from Abigail saying she’s here. I don’t even get a chance to type a response before I hear the front door opening. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” she greets with a smile, carrying in a Wendy’s bag. “I wasn’t sure what to get you since you aren’t feeling well. I figured nothing too heavy. I got you a baked potato, a small order of nuggets and a Sprite. I hope that’s okay.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sprite? I love Sprite when I’m sick.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She laughs, sitting at the edge of the bed and handing me the bag. “Me too.” I take the Sprite gratefully, sipping from the straw before I put the drink on my bedside table. I’m pulling the baked potato out of the bag when she comments gracefully, “You look like shit. I thought maybe you were faking, but..guess not.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well fuck you very much!” I tease before I start to eat. Her eyes are on me, which makes me nervous and after swallowing a couple bites, I murmur a quiet, “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Abigail shrugs her shoulders and I admire how great she looks in her military uniform. I don’t know if she actually plans to enter the military or not. She’s brilliant, could get into any college she wants and her family has the money to pay for it. But I know her mother is in the military. I’ve seen her at the career fair. She moves closer, a small smile on her face. “Maybe I just wanted to see you. I’ll miss you at practice today. You need to rest up, because I can’t survive without you tomorrow. Not to mention the big game on Friday.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know, I always thought you were scary. Who knew you were a big softie?” While I am just playing around with her, what I’m saying is still true. She’s much kinder than I ever imagined she was from our previous interactions.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She feigns offense, which makes me laugh. “Uh, no. Don’t be spreading those lies about me. I have a reputation to protect, you know."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I won’t tell. I’m good at keeping secrets,” I scarf down the rest of the potato and the smell of the nuggets turns my stomach. “I don’t think I can handle the grease. Can you eat the nuggets for me? Then throw the bag away....”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I feel like I might throw up but I stop myself with sheer force of will. I refuse to throw up in front of Abigail Bellweather. It’s bad enough she has to see me like this at all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s apologetic as she grabs the bag. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think.” Abigail eats the chicken nuggets so quickly that I can’t help but smirk at her. “What?” She asks when she notices the way I’m looking at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you even taste them?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A little,” Abigail rolls her eyes, then pulls out her phone and glances at it. “Well, I can’t stay much longer if I’m gonna make it back in time. Do you need anything before I go?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>God, she’s sweet. Who could’ve guessed?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nah, I’m good,” I assure her, and when she leans in close, my eyes narrow. I’m sick and gross and she doesn’t seem to care as she presses a kiss to my forehead. It’s so intimate and romantic, my head starts swimming. “What was that for?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My kisses are magic,” Abigail says simply, winking at me. “Now get some rest. I mean it. I’ll kick your cute ass if you don’t make it back tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She takes the bag with her on the way out and I watch her walk away. She’s the one with the nice ass, I think as my eyes are on her, and she looks back at me over her shoulder with a knowing smirk.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Busted.</span>
  </em>
  <span> But she doesn’t seem to mind that either.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I’m beginning to think that maybe Abigail likes me, too. I just gotta figure out my next move. But first, sleep.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. There's something real here</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Libba tells Raelle about her feelings for Abigail.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>L.S.—</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Abigail’s kiss is probably not what healed me, but when I wake up the next morning, I actually feel human again. I run down the stairs, curls bouncing as I enter the kitchen to pour myself a cup of orange juice. I’m humming quietly when I put some bread in the toaster, and my mom stops to look at me inquisitively.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Someone’s feeling better,” she muses, ruffling my hair. “I was worried about you, little bear.” The childhood nickname makes me smile and I turn to face her as she asks me, “What’s got you so smiley this morning?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nothing,” I lie, pulling the tub of butter from the fridge and a knife from the cutlery drawer. “Stop looking at me like that!” I can feel my cheeks flushing and she grabs my toast for me when it pops up, buttering it without a word.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her knowing eyes are on me and she can’t help but tease. “You’re not getting all fevered again, are you?” She cups my cheek in her hand. “It’s good to see you happy, whatever, or <em>whomever,</em> the reason.” I haven't told her anything about Abigail, she's just fishing for information that I won't be giving her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I roll my eyes but smile despite myself, taking a seat on the stool at the kitchen island and munching on my breakfast. I watch my mother make some coffee and kiss my father when he enters the kitchen. It’s gross to watch my parents kiss, but also, it’s kinda beautiful. The way they look at each other after all these years, there’s no denying that they were meant to be. I want a love like this, someday. That’s when I start to daydream.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>My phone rips me out of my reverie but I don’t have the heart to be grumpy about it when I see it’s just Raelle asking if we can skate to school together. I assure her that I’m feeling better and I’ll meet her at our usual tree. I am really considering confiding in Raelle about Abigail, but the thought makes me nervous given their history. I don’t want her to be upset with me over it. I can’t control my feelings and I am starting to believe there’s something real there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After finishing my breakfast and juice, I say goodbye to my parents and grab my board from my room. It’s looking pretty scuffed up these days, so I’m thinking it might be time to get a new one, maybe even this weekend. I’ve forgotten to tell my parents about Saturday detention but that’s an easy fix. I’m usually not home on Saturdays anyway, so they won’t know the difference. I don’t particularly want to tell them because I don’t have a good lie ready. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If they knew I’d been caught smoking weed at school they’d be so pissed at me. I’ve been responsible about it so far and they smoke too, but this is different. This isn’t okay and I know that. I just let a beautiful girl lead me astray. I can’t say no when a girl asks me to do something. It’s a real problem for me, I'm not even kidding.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When I catch sight of Raelle’s blonde hair, my foot comes down on the asphalt and I grin. “Hey.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” she grins back. “I missed you yesterday. I also didn’t get the chance to tell you that apparently, the squad is coming over tonight. You know what that means…” We both start to skate again, with enough room for us to be side by side and continue our conversation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I laugh gleefully. “Scylla in the house! Oh, dude, are you freaking?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe,” she looks over at me and we both laugh together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This is it. The best part of life. Just Rae and I, wind in our hair. I’ve never had a friend like Raelle before. Honestly, my parents were so thrilled the first time they met her I thought she’d never wanna hang out again. She’s the sister I never knew I was missing. That’s what makes me so nervous to tell her about Abigail. I don’t know the full story about what happened with them, which means it must have been pretty bad. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I worry that if she finds out, it’s going to change things between us, but I tell myself that if she finds out from someone other than me, it’s going to be far worse than if I told her myself. The only other choice I have is not to go after Abigail at all, which doesn’t feel fair to me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I need to tell you something,” I finally say after a long silence. At least she won’t yell at me in the middle of the street and we’ll be apart much of the morning so Raelle will have time to process it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looks over at me with raised brows. “Okay, what’s up?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I like somebody,” my breath catches as I look at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Raelle sounds suddenly nervous, stopping before asking, “...not...me, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, my god, don’t flatter yourself, Rae. My life doesn’t revolve around you, you know.” I’m mostly teasing but she does look relieved. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Personally I find it ridiculous she’d ever think I’d feel that way about her. She’s my best friend and I love her, but never like that. I had a VERY brief crush on her when we first met, but that crush was short lived and is long gone. Raelle sighs, crossing her arms to her chest impatiently.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, who is it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck me, I’m scared! Genuinely fucking terrified. What if I’m making a big deal out of this for no reason? But what if she gets pissed?! This sucks.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I take a shaky breath and chew on my bottom lip anxiously. “It’s, um, Abigail.” My voice is very low because I’m afraid to say her name out loud.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s one thing about Raelle that never fails. She wears her emotions on her face and right now, she looks hurt and confused. I feel terrible as she struggles to figure out how to respond. “Oh. Uh, okay. Honestly, I...don’t know what to say about that.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At least she isn’t yelling at me. But the look on her face says it all. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything, I just...wanted you to know. I figured you’d be upset. I didn’t mean for this to happen. But you also never told me what happened between you guys. I know you hate her, but I don’t know why.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I don’t have the time to get into that right now, Libba.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Without warning, she goes ahead of me, leaving me stunned as I watch her quite literally skate away from the conversation. I want to ask Abigail what happened, but I know her perspective on it is probably completely different. I’d like to hear the story from Raelle, but she’s obviously too upset right now. I sigh, my stomach twisting as I follow behind the blonde, maintaining a healthy distance. I don’t want to crowd her right now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I’m grabbing my things from my locker when I see Adil deliberately run into Gerit, making his books fall onto the floor. The athlete laughs as he continues walking down the hall and I start over to help him when Byron intervenes. God, Adil is such an asshole. A smile comes to my face when I see a teacher in the hallway come up to him. Pretty sure he’s getting in trouble. Serves him right. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Byron’s really sweet and apologetic as he helps Gerit with his things. It’s nice to see someone on the squad standing up for him, though I’m sure Tally would’ve done the same. She really is one of the kindest people in this school. I don’t know about the rest of the squad, though. I don’t know any of them all that well. Maybe I will now that I’m on the football team.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I can’t believe our first game is tomorrow. I have more than enough on my mind as I sit through my morning classes, trying and failing to concentrate as I worry about fucking up at the game and Raelle being angry with me. It’s not fair for her to be mad at me for something I can’t control. If Abigail had really done something horrible enough to make her undateable, maybe she should’ve told me what it was she did.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At lunch, I see Raelle pulling Scylla outside in an obvious attempt to avoid me. I try to brush it off and it’s hard to feel too guilty when Abigail squeezes my shoulder from behind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good to see you upright,” she laughs, asking if she can come sit with me. She has her own group of friends, and as she takes a seat across from me, they all stare at us. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s been spending more time with me lately and all the football players and cheerleaders don’t seem happy about it. The other players haven’t exactly accepted me as one their own yet so most of the cheerleaders have followed suit. It sucks, because I don’t know what to do to get them to like me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know it’s probably...a touchy subject, but Raelle isn’t exactly thrilled we’re hanging out. She never told me what happened between you two. I just know you used to be friends and you had some kind of fight and now you hate each other.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Abigail rolls her eyes as she unpacks her immaculate lunch. “I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>hate </span>
  </em>
  <span>her. We’re very different people.” Today she has some kind of Chinese noodles and chopsticks she’s able to use flawlessly. “There was this sleepover in middle school. Raelle liked this girl, Vanessa something. She moved away in 8th grade. Anyway, they were all sleeping over at my house and Vanessa decided to kiss me for some reason. Raelle and Tally walked in on us and Rae lost her shit. I knew she liked Vanessa and I tried to explain to her that I’d never do that to her, but she wouldn’t listen. She was so upset that she told Vanessa and Tally a secret I told her. So, I told her to call her parents to come pick her up because I didn’t want her there anymore. I know, it’s completely ridiculous, but we were in middle school. You know how annoying we all were back then. And she never apologized, by the way.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I don’t know what I was expecting out of this big falling out story but it wasn’t that. It was all over some girl that Raelle had never even mentioned to me before? I’m curious what secret she’d spilled, but if it’s a secret still, it’s not really my place to ask.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I sigh as I finish my green beans and look up at Abigail. “I think she needs you to apologize, too. You should talk it out. She’s not completely unreasonable. I know she misses you, and Tally too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, the Tally thing? That’s not what happened with them. We both stayed friends with Tally, even though Raelle and I weren’t friends with each other. I don’t know if you know this, but Tally’s parents are </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> religious. I guess when Raelle started dressing the way she does and everything...Tally’s parents freaked. They thought she was some Satanic lesbian witch or something. It broke Tally’s heart, but they told her she wasn’t allowed to hang out with Raelle anymore. I’m pretty sure they still talk sometimes, but they haven’t spent time together outside of school since.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That story makes sense to me, because I can’t imagine Tally just cutting Raelle out of her life. It’s clear how much she still cares about her just from the handful of times I’ve seen them interact. They do talk sometimes, even text, but Abigail is right, they’ve never hung out together as long as I’ve known Raelle. I have more questions, but not about this. I don’t know if I’m pushing my luck or not. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can I ask you something else?” I murmur as I begin to eat my applesauce, hoping that Abigail won’t be too upset with what I want to ask.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Abigail nods, daintily wiping her mouth with her printed napkin. I squint because I’m pretty sure her napkin has a fucking Vincent VanGogh painting on it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What’s wrong with a plain white napkin?</span>
  </em>
  <span>  “Yeah, sure,” she says a moment later, smiling at me and making my heart melt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I lean in because I don’t want anyone to overhear, though it’s so loud in the cafeteria and no one’s at our table so I don’t think that’s an issue. “Do you...uh...fuck it, I’m just gonna say it, do you like girls?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She smirks at me, putting down her chopsticks as she gazes at me in amusement. “What, have I not been obvious enough?” Her brown eyes glitter prettily in the fluorescent lights as she teases me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, thank fuck. I thought- you said that shit about wanting to be friends and making a mistake, so I wasn’t sure, but then you tell that story about Vanessa kissing you and I just...</span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> needed to know.” I’m breathless and blushing because I’m so goddamn relieved and Abigail just looks at me in that way that I can’t even fathom, making me want to kiss her right then and there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Abigail chuckles, “You’re cute,” her hand moves to rest on top of mine. “I’m pretty fluid as far as everything goes. I don’t care what people think, by the way. I just prefer to hook up with guys. If I’m going for something real, I tend to go for girls. I’m open to anything,” she shrugs, holding my gaze intently. “I like you, Libba. Getting to know you has been so great, and I was just worried about what would happen if things don’t work out. We’re on the team together and it could get awkward. But the more we hang out, the more I don’t give a shit about that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She likes me. She said she likes me. I want to pick her up and twirl her around, not that I’m strong enough to do something like that, but it’s about the sentiment of it all. I feel like the luckiest girl in the world. Abigail Bellweather likes me. Never mind that she’s the most beautiful, popular, smart, rich girl at our school. She’s cool as hell and a good kisser and when she looks at me like that it feels like my heart is gonna fall out of my butt. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I’ve never been in love before, but as her fingers link with mine, I think I might be soon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Will you go out with me this weekend?” I ask boldly, my thumb brushing against the top of her hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Abigail’s face lights up. “I’d love to.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We’re holding hands here in the cafeteria where anyone can see, but Abigail doesn’t seem to care. She just looks at me and I look at her and I haven’t been this giddy possibly ever. I catch a glimpse of blonde hair, recognizing Raelle immediately, but I don’t let go of Abigail’s hand. I let her see, and she glares at me before tugging Scylla along with her to the lunch line.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If we’re gonna do this, I need you to do something for me,” I say earnestly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She nods, squeezing my hand. “Anything.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You need to work things out with Raelle. I can’t choose between the two of you. She’s my best friend and right now, she’s so pissed at me she can’t see straight. If you guys can’t work this out, I won’t know what to do.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After pushing her lunch out of the way, she puts her other arm on the table and holds out her hand. I take it and she smiles as she meets my eyes. “I can do that. I’ve been meaning to mend fences anyway. Can you invite her to the party on Saturday? It’s at Adil’s.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ugh,” I groan at the mention of Adil. “I can’t stand him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Me neither, but his parents are out of town and they have a really good liquor cabinet, so beggars can’t be choosers,” she shrugs. “Just get Rae to come. I’ll make it up to her,” and with a chuckle, she adds, “And tell her Scylla will be there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I have no doubt that will be enough to get her there.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. If the moment feels right</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Raelle talks to Scylla about her situation with Libba.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>R.C.—</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wow. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Ever since Libba told me about her feelings for Abigail I’ve been on autopilot. It just doesn’t feel quite real and I think that maybe the universe is playing a cruel joke on me. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The whole thing with Abigail is complicated and it’s not like I don’t miss her or wish we could be friends again. But it’s not that simple. I know it isn’t fair of me to begrudge Libba for her feelings, which she can’t control, but I’m hurt. Out of everyone in the world, Abigail’s the one she’s into? It’s just too ironic. Or cruel.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I avoid Libba for the rest of the morning and when it comes time for lunch, I see her sitting at a table with Abigail. I grab Scylla’s hand and wordlessly pull her outside. She can tell something’s up with me, and her brow furrows as we sit down together on the bench out front.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s up? Are you and Libba fighting?” Scylla questions with a concerned expression, her fingers still laced through mine.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We haven’t put a label on what we are yet, but I’m already starting to think of her as my girlfriend. I sigh at the question and squeeze her hand half-heartedly. “Kinda. She told me this morning that she likes Abigail.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I haven’t exactly told her about my history with Abigail so she shrugs her shoulders, confused. “Okay, so what?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I let out another, deeper sigh. “We have a history. It’s a long story. But Abigail used to be my best friend in middle school and then we stopped being friends. So it’s weird that Libba would have a thing for her.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Long story? So long you can’t finish it by the time the bell rings? I call bullshit. Tell me. If you feel comfortable, I mean,” she adds with a smile, her thumb brushing over the top of my hand as I meet her blue eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How is it she’s still so sweet and likable when she’s calling bullshit? I want to tell her what happened, but honestly, it’s embarrassing. I know I overreacted but the thing is, the longer things lie, the harder it is to fix.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I guess I can. Why don’t we head in and grab some food first?” My stomach is growling and I’m not skipping lunch, no way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She agrees and we walk back in together. I glance over at Libba and realize that she and Abigail are literally sitting there holding hands. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, shit, I guess maybe she likes Libba, too.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I don’t mean to glare at them but I’m upset and I tug Scylla along with me, feeling my face go red. Now that I know her feelings seem to be reciprocated, I know I have to get over this somehow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I am </span>
  <b>not </b>
  <span>dropping my best friend for something so stupid. I just gotta suck it up and deal. Maybe Scylla can give me some advice. She seems strangely wise beyond her years.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We both grab a tray of food and sit down together at a corner table. The cafeteria has cleared out a bit, so there’s plenty of room for us to be alone. I don’t want anybody to overhear me talking about Abigail. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So,” she begins as she tears open a ketchup packet and puts some of the condiment on her burger. “What happened?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I swirl my spork in my applesauce as I begin to recall the fight that ended my friendship with Abigail Bellweather. “It all started at this sleepover one night at Abigail’s house. It was me, Tally, this girl Vanessa, and Abigail, of course. I had this huge crush on Vanessa, which Abigail knew about because I confessed it to her earlier that day. Anyway, we were going to watch a movie and Tally and I ran to the kitchen to get some more pizza. When we came back into her room, Abigail was kissing Vanessa. I didn’t even know that she liked girls, and she just...the thing about Abigail is, she always gets whatever she wants. If she doesn’t, then she makes it hers. So I thought she was just being a bitch, trying to show me that she’s better than me.” I take a deep breath because I realize I’m talking a lot. My cheeks turn pink and I eat some applesauce, trying to cool myself off. Scylla stays politely silent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Abigail starts trying to apologize, saying that Vanessa kissed her and she’d never do that to me. But I was so upset, I was crying and pissed and I felt betrayed, you know? I was a messed up kid I didn’t...really think before I reacted. I lashed out and told Tally &amp; Vanessa that Abigail was dyslexic. She had just gotten diagnosed a couple months before that and she was super embarrassed, like ashamed about it because she thought it meant she was dumb or something. Which she has never been dumb, by the way. I know it was mean of me to do, but the words just slipped out, and after that night, we never really hung out again. I don’t pretend to be innocent in all this, but it’s not just my fault. I don’t...really know how to apologize now. I’m not good at apologies.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I scoop some green beans into my mouth and refuse to glance up because I’m scared to see the look on Scylla’s face. I don’t want to know her reaction because I <em>know</em> I’m in the wrong. That’s what has been hardest about all this. I’m more pissed at me than Abigail, but I’m also fucking stubborn and I never wanted to be the first one to apologize. I realize that I’ve let Abigail’s secret slip again, and I whisper, “please don’t tell anyone about her dyslexia, or she really <strong>will</strong> hate me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scylla shakes her head and puts down her half-eaten burger. “Do you really think I’d do something like that?” She looks a bit hurt. “Clearly you still have a lot to learn about me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s not exactly my fault. She hasn’t really opened up to me. But I’m hoping to spend more time with her tonight when the squad comes over. Maybe she’ll hang around when they’re done practicing or whatever, at least that’s what I hope.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” I murmur, pushing my tray away. I’m not hungry anymore.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She crosses her arms to her chest and stares at me. “It’s okay. I haven’t really shared much, so that’s my fault. But anyway, back to you and Abigail...it’s a silly fight, you do know that, right? Was Vanessa the one great love of your life and she stole her? Doesn’t sound like it. Maybe she was telling you the truth, but you chose to believe the worst. Then you hurt her back, which is an incredible juvenile thing to do, but you were a kid, so of course you did. I think you need to apologize to her first. I know it’s hard, but...it sounds to me like your friendship with Libba might depend on this. I’d hate to see you lose another friend over a middle school fight. Is this why you’re not friends with Tally anymore?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That’s another story entirely. Thankfully after all that went down with Abigail, Tally stayed friends with both of us. That can’t have been easy for her either. I bitched about Abs all the time and I’m sure she did the same to me. Poor Tally. She never deserved to be put in the middle like that. She deserved better than both of us. I’m pretty sure she and Abigail still hang out, but her and I don’t really anymore. Now I’m feeling awfully guilty about that. Hanging out would be hard though, because she’d have to lie to her parents. I just...stopped trying.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, uh, Tally’s parents are...you know. They love God, they hate the gays and weirdos. I think it was the occult stuff that was the last straw for them. I do think they were also worried I’d come on to Tally or something. Which I never did...But she’s young and impressionable, they said, and they couldn’t let her be tempted by Satan’s influence…” I roll my eyes as I recall the wording they’d used when they had a conversation with my parents. It had been a big drama then with my parents, too. My mom was super pissed at me for screwing things up. She really likes Tally, and I think she hoped she’d rub off on me eventually.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scylla hums in agreement as she polishes off the rest of her lunch. She never wastes a bite of food, I’ve noticed. I wonder if it has anything to do with her being a foster kid. I’ve heard horror stories about it before. She never talks about it except the one time she mentioned her foster dad. I’m super curious but it seems too personal to ask. I just keep hoping she’ll open up about it eventually. We haven’t know each other that long, I remind myself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s nothing wrong with being curious. I’ve always found that stuff really interesting, too. Ouija boards and all that...guess I’ll be sure NOT to mention that to Tally’s parents if I ever meet them,” she laughs and leans on to her elbows, looking at me carefully. “I can tell you miss them. Maybe I can help you smooth things over with Tally and her parents. I don’t know Abigail that well but I’m sure Libba would be happy to help you there. Seems like she might listen to her, if she cares about her the way she seems to.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why are you so smart?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scylla shrugs her shoulders and grabs my tray, stacking it on top of her own. “My therapist tells me I’m ‘emotionally intelligent.’ That’s probably what that is,” she smirks at me and my heart races, as it always seems to do when she simply glances in my general direction. “I like you, Raelle. I like having you open up to me. I want to do the same. I have a lot of...stuff. Trauma, you know, bad things, messed up thoughts, mental health stuff...but I want to let you in on it. It just might take me a while to feel comfortable enough to tell you everything. I’d really like to spend some time with you, outside of school. Texting is fine, but it’s not really the same. I can’t look into your eyes, or hold your hand…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Does she realize how romantic that sounds?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>God, she is the perfect girl and I am just helpless to resist her. I’m already halfway in love with her and I know almost nothing about her. She’s right, that needs to change, and that should start tonight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tonight. After practice. Stay for dinner?” I suggest with a grin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She nods. “You have a deal. But I need you to do one thing for me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, that has me curious. I look at her with uncertainty, because I don’t want to make any promises without knowing what I’m agreeing to. “What’s that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I want you to kiss me tonight.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That’s forward.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I don’t know what to say. I know I should say yes but my brain is not working as I think of what it might be like to finally feel her lips against mine. It hasn’t even been a week yet since we met but my feelings are already there. I’ve already pictured kissing her half a dozen times. But for her to say this to me makes me nervous. I’d have been a lot less nervous if I could’ve just done it in the moment. But clearly she isn’t one to beat around the bush.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If the moment feels right,” I answer earnestly, because that’s the best I can do.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She seems satisfied with that. Scylla winks at me and throws out our trays, returning to sit next to me at the table. She wraps her arms around me and gives me a hug which I don’t expect, but I don’t hate either. I return the hug and ignore the people staring at us.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your heart’s beating so fast,” Scylla whispers and my face goes red.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Is she fucking with me right now?</span>
  </em>
  <span> “You...can hear it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She pulls back, takes my hand and places it above my heart. I can feel it thumping like crazy against my palm and my blush deepens. “I could feel it. Should I just kiss you right here, right now?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We’re in the cafeteria, in the middle of lunch hour. That doesn’t <em>seem</em> like a good idea. But a pretty girl wants to kiss me, and I’d be a damn fool to say no.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So I don’t say anything at all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I take her face in my hands and I kiss her with everything I have, everybody else be damned. I can feel her smile against my lips and she returns my kiss, fingers slipping into my hair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As she breaks away to catch her breath, I smile, explaining, <em>“The moment felt right.”</em></span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before she can respond, I hear someone clearing their throat. I look up to see my math teacher, who is apparently on lunch duty. He seems embarrassed to even be coming to talk with us, but there’s definitely a school rule about public displays of affection. Kissing violates those rules. I knew that when I kissed Scylla, I just didn’t care. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m a fucking rebel, what can I say?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Keep your hands to yourselves, ladies. This isn’t the time or the place to express your….feelings,” god, he’s so uncomfortable it almost makes me laugh out loud. “You’ll need to show up at 8 AM on Saturday for detention. I’ll be informing Principal Alder.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I groan. “Really? No warning?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Rules are rules.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He walks off and leaves me laying on the table, my face burning because everybody’s staring at us and now I get to explain to my parents why I have Saturday detention. But hey, I’m in good company. Libba’s gonna be there, and so is Tally. It’ll be like a party. You know, if they</span>
  <em>
    <span> had </span>
  </em>
  <span>parties in jail.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scylla forces me to sit up and she’s grinning, not looking ashamed or angry or even a little annoyed. “That was </span>
  <em>
    <span>worth</span>
  </em>
  <span> it,” she says emphatically, making my blush deepen. “We’re doing that again later,” then pauses before adding, “Off-grounds.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not long after, the lunch bell goes off and it’s time to separate. I see Libba soon, so I take the time in class to write her a note apologizing and asking for her advice to talk with Abigail. I slip it to her when we have class together and watch her reading it from over her shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She turns around and gives me a thumbs up, looking relieved. We can’t really talk about it in class as much as I want to. The teachers here have gotten wise to all the secret texting tricks, so I have to wait until the end of the day. Libba won’t have long because there’s a game tomorrow and she has practice, but we meet at her locker and start to talk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I’m surprised when she tells me that Abigail is already trying to figure out how to apologize. She suggests that I go to the game tomorrow, to watch her and to talk to Abigail face to face. It’s a good idea so I agree, and I give her a hug and my own apology. I feel bad for how I reacted, but she’s not upset with me. I think she was just as scared as I was about this ruining our friendship. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Libba means so much to me. More than I ever really say. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I actually take my mom up on a ride home because she’s driving Scylla, too. We sit together in the back seat, trying not to touch each other because I know my mama can see us in the rear view, but god, it is HARD.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I really want to hold her hand again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Instead we just keep making eyes and smiling at each other. As Scylla enters our home, my mama grabs my arm and looks at me knowingly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You like her, don’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <em>
    <span>Well, fuck me. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I guess my mother knows me better than I thought.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Parts of you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After the squad practices at Raelle's house, Scylla begins to open up to her.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>R.C.—</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>While my mama waits for the rest of the squad to arrive, I bring Scylla up to my bedroom to show her around. She pretends to be interested in seeing my room, but we both know it’s just an excuse. Once the door is closed, I’m pinning her against it, kissing her fiercely. She laughs against my lips, amused by my enthusiasm as her hands move to my waist.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s such a good kisser. When we finally come up for air, her lips are noticeably swollen and my cheeks flush.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” Scylla asks with a giggle, pressing kisses to my jawline.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I grin at her as her thumbs slide into the belt loops of my jeans. “Nothing. I just really like kissing you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She laughs, trailing kisses along my chin before she pecks my lips playfully. “That’s good. It’d be awkward if you didn’t,” she teases, bringing her fingertips to brush along the scar on my jaw. “You are so beautiful,” her tone is reverent as her ocean blue eyes meet mine, my heart thumping predictably in my chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not as beautiful as you,” I murmur shyly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She hushes me, pressing her index finger against my lips. “Nope, none of that. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>are </span>
  </em>
  <span>beautiful, and I’ll keep telling you that until you believe it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I cup her face in my hands and tilt my head, bringing our mouths together again. As her tongue slips past my lips, I moan softly, pressing my body against hers. Things are getting pretty heavy when the doorknob suddenly turns, but the weight of our bodies against the door prevent it from being opened. There’s a loud, insistent knock and we break apart, flushed as my mother yells: </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Door. Open. NOW!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I wrench the door open sheepishly and my mom just smirks at me as she looks from Scylla to me, knowing exactly what was going on. I hate that it’s so obvious because I know she’s going to make fun of me later.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She announces that a couple of the girls have already made it and are waiting downstairs. She adds, hopefully to me, “Tally’s already here, Raelle, if you’d like to say hello.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s always loved Tally. I’m pretty sure she likes her more than me, probably wishes she was her daughter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I nod, before asking with wide, hopeful eyes, “Can Scylla stay for dinner?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Yes, of course,” she agrees, “Scylla, is that okay with your parents?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Foster parents,” Scylla corrects automatically, gaze falling to the floor like she’s ashamed of admitting it aloud. “I’ll call them and ask.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>My mother suggests that Scylla go down and join the girls, but she stops me, raising her eyebrows at me once we’re alone. “We’re going to need to review the rules, aren’t we? Just because you don’t date boys, doesn’t mean the usual rules don’t apply,” she doesn’t sound angry, though. “Is Scylla your girlfriend?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, fuck, I’m blushing as I shake my head. “No. I mean, not yet. We...kissed today. At school. We have Saturday detention. Sorry,” I wince.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shrugs her shoulders at me and laughs. “Detention for a kiss? Seems worth it to me,” she winks and I feel so weird because I’ve never seen her like this before. I’ve dated a couple girls before, but she never liked any of them. It’s clear she thinks highly of Scylla, and that fact kinda freaks me out. “She’s a good girl. She has a sadness about her, though, that I’m hoping cheer might help with. Nice legs, very athletic. She’ll be an asset to the squad. I’m just surprised you’d go for a girl like her.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, me too,” I admit with a smile, “but I liked her before I knew she’d be ‘one of your girls.’ Just don’t be all weird about it. I don’t wanna mess things up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She nods, lowering her voice as if someone will overhear. “I was surprised when I sent the permission slip home, that it came back signed by children services. She’s in care, huh? Do you know what happened?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s not my place to say. “Not really, no. She hasn’t talked about it, so I haven’t asked.” That much is true, and I don’t want to tell her I found out about her parents after lurking her Twitter account. Even Scylla doesn’t know I saw that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just be careful, honey,” my mother warns gently, “Kids like that, they have a lot of trauma. Who knows what the poor girl has been through.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s a loud knocking at the front door and my mother pulls me downstairs, shoving me in Tally’s direction before she opens the door to more of the squad. They’re pouring into the house now, and there’s just a couple missing- Glory Moffett and Beth Treefine. Knowing them, they’ve probably stopped on the way for Starbucks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh, hi, Tally,” I greet, hoping I don’t sound as dumb as I feel. “Can we talk?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She nods emphatically and I tug her into the kitchen, yelping when she hugs me out of the blue. “I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>happy for you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are you talking about?” I look at her with confusion.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tally laughs like I’ve said something ridiculous. “You and Scylla, of course. She talks about you all the time, and </span>
  <b>
    <em>everybody</em>
  </b>
  <span> was talking about that cafeteria kiss!” She nudges me playfully. “It’s nice to see you happy. I’ve seen you smile more since she moved here than I’ve seen in years.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” I shrug my shoulders sheepishly. “What does she say about me?” I facepalm hard before interrupting myself, “Never mind, that doesn’t matter right now. I- I wanted to talk to you about our friendship or whatever.” <em>Wow, that was awkward.</em></span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She smiles and nods. “What about it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We <em>are</em> still friends, right?” I ask nervously, uncertain if I'm prepared for the answer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Rae. Seriously? Of course we are. You know how much I love you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I shrug my shoulders, feeling stupid for questioning things and explaining, “But we don’t...really talk much anymore.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t think you wanted to. I know how upset you were about my parents being all judge-y. It doesn’t mean I don’t still love you and want to spend time together. We’re not kids anymore, and they don’t have that kind of say over what I do now. If you wanted to, we could start hanging out again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I- I want to,” I don’t know why I’m stuttering or why I’m so nervous, but I can’t help the way my stomach flutters at the thought of having Tally in my life again. Not in any romantic way but because she’s always meant a lot to me, her and Abigail both, and the idea that I could have them both back as my friends again makes me feel like crying. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I tackle her in an unexpected hug. “Oh!” She cries out, laughing as she hugs me back, then presses a kiss to my cheek. She's always been affectionate, which I'm not usually into, but it works for her personality. “Let’s do it then! Maybe this weekend? There’s this party…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, sure, why not? Also, we have do detention together,” I declare with a groan.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She laughs again. “For the kiss, right? I heard! You gave poor Mr. Brooks the fright of his life! I heard his face was super red, was his face super red?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, he seemed pretty embarrassed. You know how quiet and weird he is. I felt a little bad about it, but I definitely don’t have any regrets. You know before you guys got here, Scylla came up to my room and we made out-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Glory pops her head into the kitchen wearing a rah-rah grin. “There you are. We’re heading to the back yard to practice.” She looks over at me. “Hi, Raelle.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi, Glory,” I say politely as she and Tally disappear out the back door together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I’ve had quite the day. I head upstairs to work on my homework, taking a seat by my window sill so that I can steal some glances at Scylla. She’s just so cute, and she fits in well with the squad. From looking at her, you wouldn’t have guessed she just joined this week.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s very distracting. It takes me twice as long to finish my algebra homework, but as I finish up the last problem, it looks like the girls have stopped to take a break. I resist the urge to go down, but as I pull out my English book, my phone dings. I glance at it to find a text from Scylla.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You’re watching me, aren’t you? Pretty sure I felt your</span>
  </em>
  <span> 👀 </span>
  <em>
    <span>on me…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I bite my lower lip, wondering if I should admit it or not. It feels just a bit creepy but she also seems to be teasing. I don’t think she’d mind so much.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Now and then. You’ve gotten good.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I peek out the window and I see her waving at me, my face going red.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I can’t wait to kiss you again. I really like you, Raelle.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>I really like you too, Scylla.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I can stay for dinner. Maybe we can talk after? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Definitely.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She scrambles to put her phone away when my mother crosses to the center of the yard, probably giving some kind of speech about the big game tomorrow. It reminds me of Libba, so I send her a quick message asking if she’s nervous about it. She responds almost immediately, saying she’d just been about to text me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Libba’s nervous as hell and I can’t say I blame her. I’d be way too scared to be out there on the field, but then again, she’s always been braver than me. She mentions a party that she &amp; Abigail are going to on Saturday, so I bring up the fact that Tally’s just invited me. Between the game, detention and now apparently, a party, I’ve got a big weekend coming up. I’m already exhausted just thinking about it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She seems excited that I plan to go for sure, and reminds me that it’d be the perfect time to talk to Abigail. I’m dreading the conversation, because I hate admitting when I’m wrong, but I owe her an apology. I can recognize that now that I’m not blinded by anger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After our conversation lulls, I lose myself in the book we’re reading for class. I almost don’t hear the knock at my door. When I hear Scylla’s sweet voice on the other side, I jump up to answer it and she grins as she brushes my hair out of my face. I guess I’ve lost track of time because practice is over.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” she whispers, running her thumb over my lower lip. “Your mother said dinner would be ready in about an hour.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Uh, I think...we need to leave the door cracked.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She laughs at me incredulously, “What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My mama, she- she said that I needed to remember the rules. Those are the rules. I think she’s afraid I’m gonna…” I swallow nervously, “you know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Have sex?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She sits down on the end of my bed and looks up at me, twirling a strand of brown hair around her finger. “Well, that’s gonna happen eventually, isn’t it? I mean- not with us, unless you wanted it to, just...you’re a teenager. Teenagers have sex. It’s not like you’re gonna end up a Teen Mom or anything.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I know. She’s not super thrilled about the gay thing. But she does like you, and I think she likes the idea of me being with someone like you. Uh, speaking of sex, are you...have you ever…?” I can’t even get the words out. It’s not something I’m that comfortable discussing but I’m definitely wondering.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She laughs again as I move to sit next to her and her hand goes to rest on my knee. “I have, yes. Once. But it wasn’t a great experience. It was with a guy,” she rolls her eyes. “I wish I could take it back. I would’ve loved my first time to be more meaningful, but…” She shrugs. “What can you do?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scylla gives my knee a squeeze, grins at me and then gets up, looking around my room with obvious curiosity. It makes me anxious to have her roaming around like this, but I don’t complain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, you said something before about wanting to talk about something?” I say, uncomfortable in the silence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stops in front of my bookshelf, which is lined with a mishmash of graphic novels, fantasy fiction and poetry books. Not to mention over a dozen sketchbooks full of my own art. Her fingers brush against the spine of one of them and she turns to look at me with a brief nod. “Yeah, just you don’t know much about me, and I kind of unfairly know a bit more about you. Your mother talks about you a lot.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh, I don’t like that, not at all. I don’t know what my mother would’ve told her about me and I’m not sure if I want to know. “Sure, you can tell me whatever you want. I won’t judge.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“These are all sketchbooks?” She asks with a smile and I nod. “Have you drawn me yet?” She poses the question as I lie back on the bed and she drops down next to me, grabbing my hand and pressing a kiss to my palm. “Well?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I shake my head. “Not really. Just...parts of you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ooooh? Which parts?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I laugh nervously, rolling over to face her and gazing into her eyes. “Your eyes. Your lips. Your hands.” I shrug as her fingers brush along my sides teasingly. She makes me shiver with her touch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’d love to see how you see me,” she admits softly, sounding far away and wistful. Scylla stays quiet for a bit before she leans into me, her voice growing softer as she speaks, “My parents died. About a month ago. I never really knew any of their family. I think their parents are all long gone, and their siblings and stuff all live in other states, other countries. There wasn’t anywhere for me to go. So, the state got custody of me, placed me in a foster home. They say it’s up to me whether I want to be adopted or not. I’m not really sure how to feel about it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t that a little soon to be talking about adoption?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shrugs and I run my fingers gently through her hair as she answers, “The home I’m in isn’t even a foster-to-adopt home anyway. I’ve been talking with my caseworker about my goals and what I’d like to do. I feel like getting adopted would be a betrayal. I already have parents, they’re just...gone. It’s not that long until I’m eighteen anyway. I just have to figure things out until then.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. Can I ask what happened to your parents?” I’m not sure if she’s comfortable talking about it, but it’s only natural to be curious.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She takes my hand, playing with my fingers and not meeting my eyes. I don’t fill the silence, simply wait to hear what she has to say. I don’t mind if she doesn’t want to tell me, and the longer she’s quiet, the more guilty I feel for asking. “It was a fire in the middle of the night. I wasn’t home, I was having a sleepover with my friend.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, wow,” I whisper, unable to imagine what that must have been like. “So you lost your house, all your things and your parents all at the same time?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yep. No family pictures. None of my clothes or sentimental stuffed animals from when I was a kid...all gone. Poof. Just like that. Then I had to leave my school and all my friends. It was...a lot.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I can’t help but ask, because I’m wondering what’s taken so long, “If that was a month ago, why are you only just now starting school?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scylla begins to cry and my heart breaks as I wrap my arms around her and hold her close. I feel like I shouldn’t have asked, but I also don’t know what triggered the crying, if it’s just talk of her parents, or if something else happened. I don’t ask anything else, just keep holding her as she cries against my chest. She needs time and love, so I don’t pressure her into anything else.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It could be anything. Like my mama said, she’s been through a lot of trauma. I can’t pretend to understand the things she’s been through, only be there for her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I just hope that’s enough.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. A saxophone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Someone helps Raelle in an unexpected way.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Trigger warning for the use of homophobic slurs.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>R.C.—</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Scylla apologizes as she sits up, wiping her eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I smile and shake my head at her. “You don’t need to apologize. Thank you for telling me. That can’t have been easy. But you can always talk to me, you know?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She says the same goes for me and I believe her. I haven’t known her long, but I trust her already. After a little while, My father raps gently on the door, letting us know that dinner is ready. I guess we’ve been talking longer than I realized. Together we head downstairs to eat some of my mother’s lasagna, table conversation boring and polite with Scylla around. I know my parents are going to question the hell out of me after she leaves tonight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>My papa makes her laugh with some dumb joke and she and my mama talk about the upcoming game. When Scylla asks if I’m going, my papa chokes on his lasagna and I roll my eyes at his overblown reaction.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am, actually, yeah. To support Libba. It’s her first game. I’ll be supporting you, too, of course,” I add, not wanting Scylla to feel left out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I’ve never gone to a football game and my mother has been trying to get me to for years. She looks surprised but doesn’t comment, knowing if she gets involved, I’m likely to change my mind. All my friends are going to be busy at the game, so I’m probably going to have to sit in the stands alone. The thought makes me nervous because I’m sure my classmates aren’t gonna be nice to me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Scylla, are you being picked up, or can I drive you home later?” My mother asks politely as she finishes her meal, clearly eager to do the dishes and get Scylla out of here. I don’t want her to leave yet, but I know she probably has some homework to get done still.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Either works for me, coach.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hearing Scylla call my mother ‘coach’ actually makes me shudder. It’s not like I don’t already know she’s her cheerleading coach but hearing them talk so familiarly with one another gives me the heebie jeebies. It occurs to me that she might know Scylla better than I do, at least, until tonight. She’s opened up to me now and might do so even more later. The thought excites me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scylla and I wash and dry the dishes together, chatting quietly. She’s anxious about the game too, and about detention on Saturday. She’s never had detention before. I find that fact precious because I’ve had detention so many times, and I don’t even consider myself to be a ‘bad girl.’ I’ve already agreed to go with Scylla to Adil’s party, knowing that Libba will be going with Abigail. I don’t know who else will be there but if I had to guess, I’d say the usual suspects: most of the team and cheerleaders. I’m gonna be out of place, but so will Libba. There’s strength in numbers and besides, I know Scylla won’t take people talking shit about me. I know Abigail well enough to know she won’t either.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once the dishes are put away, I insist on accompanying my mother to drive Scylla home. I don’t have time to steal another kiss and I’m not comfortable kissing her in front of my mom, so I settle for holding her hand in the back seat and hoping my mother doesn’t tease me too much about it later. As we pull into her driveway, Scylla presses a kiss to the top of my hand and gives me a wink, dropping my hand before saying thank you and getting out of the car.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I get out of the back and move to the passenger side, putting on my seatbelt under my mom’s uncomfortable gaze.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’d better ask her out, Raelle. That’s one girl you don’t want to lose,” she remarks with a smile before pulling out of the driveway and starting back toward home. “Why don’t we stop for ice cream?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her suggestion is a good one and I can’t disagree, ordering a dipped cone and grateful that she can’t make me talk too much while I eat. I know she has more questions and more opinions but I don’t want to hear it. It’s already freaking me out that she knows Scylla already, and she’s so invested in this. I like her so much, but I don’t like my mom being in our business. I want to tell her to buzz off, but I bite my tongue, for once, because we’re practically getting along.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once we make it back home I say goodnight, spend half the night up texting Scylla, only to fall asleep with my phone in my hands. By morning it’s nearly dead, so I plug it in while I get ready and it’s decently charged up enough to get to school. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Given that it’s game day, there’s another pep rally, only this time, I’m sitting at the bleachers alone. I pull out my sketchbook and draw, watching Scylla perform with an obvious smile on my face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“H-hey,” I hear a voice behind me and turn around to see Gerit looking at me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We’ve not spoken much before so I’m curious what he wants. “Yeah?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re friends with Tally Craven, right?” I nod and he continues, “Could you give this to her for me?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He thrusts a letter written on notebook paper into my hand. It’s folded perfectly and has Tally’s name written on the front. “What’s this?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He seems embarrassed, and he murmurs, “Don’t read it, please. Just give it to her for me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” I agree, “I will, I promise.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gerit laughs and pushes his glasses up to the top of his nose. He’s all sweaty, clearly nervous about whatever confession of love is in his note. “Thanks, Raelle. Hey, I heard there’s a party this weekend at Adil’s house. Do you know if Tally is going?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think so, yeah,” though I know he’s not invited, as he’s even less popular than I am. “Why do you ask?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shrugs. “No reason.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Okay, that was weird. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Not that weird, though. It’s not the first time someone has had a crush on Tally. There are tons of boys who like her, but she’s shy and awkward, so she’s always completely unaware of it. I wonder if there are any boys crushing on Scylla. Or girls. I don’t like the thought, not at all. My mama’s right, I need to lock it down before I lose her. I’m gonna need to ask Libba’s advice, though. She’s so much smoother than me and good at this kinda thing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I can see her and Abigail making eyes at each other when they come out on the gym floor. I never would’ve imagined them together, not in a million years. The height difference alone is remarkable, but the more I think about their personalities, the more I realize it makes some strange kind of sense. It’s gonna be weird as fuck seeing them together but hopefully things won’t be too awkward.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I’m ready to put everything behind me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the last bell rings, everyone on the bleachers stampedes toward the doors. I take my time, walking back to find the cheerleaders, pressing Gerit’s note into Tally’s palm with a grin. Scylla’s arms slip around my waist and she hugs me as I tell her how great she’d done at her routine. I know, because I’ve seen it hundreds of times.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We should hang out after the game,” Scylla suggests with a wide smile, “My...parents,” she gives me a knowing look, because she’s not calling them her foster parents in front of the whole squad, who likely don’t know about her situation, and I nod, “They said I could have you over. I think they wanna meet the girl I’ve been talking about all week.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The idea of meeting her foster parents makes me nervous, but it’s worth it if I get to spend more time with Scylla. I agree and she squeals, kissing my cheek before she and the rest of the squad file out of the opposite site of the gymnasium.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you guys girlfriends now or what?” Libba’s familiar voice echoes in the empty gym and I laugh as I turn to meet her gaze.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s so weird seeing her in a football uniform. It makes her seem taller somehow. “No, not yet. We’re just having fun together right now,” I shrug because everyone keeps asking and while I’d love to be her girlfriend, I don’t wanna rush things. She’s been through a lot and the last thing I want to do is put pressure on her if she’s not ready.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay. You guys are really cute together, though,” she grins at me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I can’t help but tell her earnestly, “So are you and Abigail.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait, what? You really think that? I thought-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I shake my head, clapping her on the shoulder and smirking when I feel the foreign sensation of shoulder pads underneath my hand. “Nah, Libba. I’m sorry. I overreacted. I know she and I have our stuff to work on, but all I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy,” I pause, taking a breath as I look into my best friend’s eyes. “Abigail is one of the best people I know. If anyone deserves for you to love them, it’s her.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Love? I don’t know about that...yet, but maybe,” Libba doesn’t get shy often, especially not with me, but she looks like a lovesick puppy and it’s sweet to see. “I really like her. I just don’t get why she’s into me. She could have anybody…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re kidding me, right? Libba, you’re the coolest fucking person in this town. Without even having to try. You’ve made me laugh so hard I peed my pants more than once. You’re gorgeous and strong and weird. Definitely never boring. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>completely</span>
  </em>
  <span> get why Abigail’s into you. You’re too hard on yourself, Lib,” I nudge her gently and she sheepishly smiles at me. “I’m really happy for you. Seriously.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wipes away her tears and gives me a look like she dares me to point them out. “I’m really happy for me, too. Oh, and for you and Scylla too, obviously,” Libba laughs and wraps me in a hug, which feels especially strange in her uniform. “We’ll have to do a double date sometime, huh?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Now don’t get ahead of yourself, Swythe. We’re not quite there yet.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scylla and I haven’t even had a real date yet. I want that to happen before I have to share her attention with anyone else. Luckily Libba seems to understand, but our conversation is cut short when Abigail walks in, letting her know the coach is looking for her. As Libba starts out the exit door, Abigail waves at me. I smile and wave back, and think maybe that’s a good first step to repairing things between us.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After I head home, I grab a snack and watch some television, figuring I can work on my homework in detention tomorrow. It’s crazy to think I’ll be there with Tally, Abigail, Libba and Scylla. It’s almost like some weird kind of reunion and might actually be fun, depending on which teacher will be there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It occurs to me that I don’t know what to wear to a football game. My mama isn’t home because she’s probably doing last minute shit with the squad, so I pop into my father’s office to ask him. He’s grading papers and when I question him about the appropriate sports attire he actually laughs out loud.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re asking </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> for fashion advice? My advice would be to wear something comfortable,” he shrugs, putting down his red pen. “Would you like to help me get some grading done, like old times?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I agree and sit down with his rubric, helping do some grading like I used to two a year or so ago. I don’t know for sure what I want to major in when I get to college, but being a professor doesn’t seem like a bad gig. We chat about Libba and Abigail, about Scylla, about how classes are going. It never feels awkward talking to him about anything. Before too long, his stack of papers has dwindled and he decides we need to celebrate with some fast food, hitting up the McDonald’s down the street.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I love hanging out with him so much that I almost lose track of time. Thankfully he offers to drive me to the stadium and I grab my hoodie on the way out. We sing together in the car, though his voice is terrible and always makes me laugh. I feel a little bad he’ll be spending the evening alone, but he assures me he’s looking forward to getting some things done without ‘his girls’ around to distract him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before getting out of the car, I thank him again, going up to the ticket stand and purchasing a ticket for the game. I thought these things would be free, but I’m not just gonna leave now. As I start toward the bleachers, I notice the cheerleaders already starting onto the field to perform. Scylla catches my gaze and her face lights up as she waves at me. I laugh, waving back and nearly tripping over my own feet in the process.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bleachers are relatively full because there’s not much else to do in town on a Friday night. I take a seat by the marching band, who are nearly at the top of the bleachers. I smirk as I glance over at Gerit, hard at work on his saxophone. He’s actually pretty good, but I’m still wondering what his note to Tally said. He’s such a dork, but he’s incredibly sweet. Tally doesn’t give a shit about status or popularity, and if he poured his heart out to her, I won’t be surprised if she gives him a chance. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That’s just the kind of person Tally is.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>My eyes drift back to the field as the cheerleaders begin their complex routine. I try to watch all of them, but naturally my gaze keeps falling back on Scylla. Cheer is lame.  I still firmly believe that. But seeing Scylla do a back handspring, or whatever you call it? It’s like a religious experience.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She is a goddess, and all I want to do right now is worship at her Nike-clad feet. I clap and cheer loudly as they exit the field, heading down the bleachers to meet Scylla and catch a minute with her. I know enough to know the game will be starting soon and she won’t get much time to hang out with me until the end. These things are hours long and I’m dreading sitting there that long, but at least I can watch Libba play. I won’t know what the hell’s happening but I can still support my bestie.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi, you did great,” I gush as I meet with Scylla behind the bleachers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She grins, thanking me before pulling me beneath the bleachers and giving me a heated kiss I don’t expect. But I return it with a smile, my hands on her hips as I lean into her. God, I never want to stop kissing her, and as her mouth finds my neck, my breath quickens and I know we have to stop, or someone’s gonna hear me moaning.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I get to see you tonight and tomorrow...I’m gonna get spoiled,” Scylla giggles, thumb running along my scar. “Are you nervous about meeting my foster parents?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I shrug my shoulders, because I don’t want to admit it. “I don’t know, maybe.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, don’t be. I have some special things planned just for us, too. Gives you something to look forward to. I know football isn’t your thing,” she drops her voice as she confesses, “It’s not mine either. But cheer has been fun. A nice distraction. Tally’s already become one of my best friends, and she has a lot of good stories about you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>My eyes widen because I have no idea what Tally’s told her. “Oh, god, what has she said?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“All good things,” she laughs, pecking my lips. “I’ve gotta get back, babe.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Babe?” I echo, my heart pounding in my chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s her turn to shrug her shoulders. “Thought I’d try it out. I like the sound of it.” I put my hand on her chin and tilt her head up, stealing another kiss. “Don’t get greedy, hm? Plenty of time for that later.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She winks at me, leaving me a sputtering mess as she deliberately shakes her ass in her tight little skirt. Wow. I’m having some bad (GOOD) thoughts right now. I’m pretty sure she’s scrambled my brain because I end up running right into Adil by the concession stand and making him drop his hot dog.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looks so, so pissed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You fucking dyke bitch,” he spits, getting in my face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I clench my jaw and hold my head high. “Step back,” I warn him evenly, but he doesn’t listen, continuing to deride me and even when I walk away back toward the bleachers he follows, which starts to freak me out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s a bit of an overblown reaction over a hot dog. But he’s never liked me and this just gives him an excuse to be an ass. He’s acting like this in front of everyone, and not only am I scared, I’m also completely humiliated.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What happens next, I never could have anticipated. Something falls from the bleachers and hits Adil in the shoulder. He cries out and goes down to the ground, looking up to try to figure out what’s happened. As I glance down at the destroyed instrument, I realize that I recognize it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A saxophone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Gerit’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> saxophone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I leave Adil in the dirt, but at least I’m kind enough to let a teacher know about the ‘accident’ before I find my spot in the bleachers. The teams are fanning out on the field and as I start toward the band, I hear the leader or whatever yelling at Gerit for 'carelessly and klutzily' dropping &amp; breaking his sax. He apologizes, shrugs his shoulders and glances over at me with a wink and a grin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If Tally doesn’t ask him out after I tell her the story of his heroism, I’ll be shocked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the game begins, the cheerleaders stand at the sideline doing their chants and stuff. Glory leads them, as she’s supposed to as cheer captain and I have to admit she’s good at it. She’s just as smiley as Tally is, but she’s...prettier about it. I love Tally, but sometimes she pulls some crazy faces. I like that she’s so goofy, though. She’s someone who never fails to make me smile, and I don’t do that much these days. Well, at least not until I met Scylla.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I take turns watching Libba and Scylla, paying more attention when it’s our team’s ball, and Libba looks strangely powerful out there on the field. I’m impressed with how fast she is and how well she works with Abigail. I don’t really understand football enough to know what’s happening. The touchdown part I get, and we have a few of those. When halftime finally comes, the cheerleaders go out to perform. Gerit moves to sit beside me and I look over at him with a grin I’m unable to hold back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That was great,” I chuckle, nudging him playfully with my shoulder. “Seriously, Gerit, thank you. Adil’s such a creep.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sighs, “I know. He deliberately pushed me in the hallway the other day. I didn’t stand up to him then and I should’ve. But seeing him talk to you that way, I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. My mom’s gonna be super mad about the saxophone, though. I hope when I tell her the whole story she’ll understand.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You were defending my honor like a true gentleman,” I manage to say all this without gagging because if there ever was a good man, he’s one. “I’ll never forget that moment. Are you gonna go down and grab your sax? Maybe they can fix it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good idea,” he grins and scrambles down to get it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even as I am talking to Gerit, my attention is focused on Scylla, my eyes on her hips, her legs and other parts of her that my eye can’t help but be drawn to. I don’t even notice when Gerit comes back to sit next to me cradling his shattered saxophone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It isn’t until the squad leaves the field that I come back to reality. He’s staring at me with the biggest grin on his face, because he’d been doing the exact same thing as me, only he has eyes for Tally instead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cheerleader stole your heart, too, huh?” He asks before letting out a laugh. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I roll my eyes, but I can feel my face flushing, which I know I can at least blame on the cool autumn air. “Something like that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The marching band takes the field, sans Gerit, and I excuse myself, intending to go find and speak to Abigail as I’d promised Libba that I would. I find her back in the locker room and ask if she has a minute to talk. The halftime show is still going on and she’s draining a bottle of Gatorade, but isn’t up to much else. Libba leaves us alone in the girl’s locker room so that we can talk privately, sitting awkwardly together on the bench.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m sorry-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“I’m sorry-”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We both say it at the same time and start to laugh. “No, but really. It’s my fault,” I say with a sigh. “I’m sorry that I jumped to conclusions and that I told Tally and Vanessa about your dyslexia. But...did Vanessa really kiss you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. She really did. Believe me, Rae, I wasn’t into Vanessa. I...kind of had a crush on Tally, actually.” She chews on her lower lip and rolls her eyes, shrugging her shoulders. “That’s why I got so pissed that you told her. But let’s be real, Tally was never gonna be into me anyway. Besides, I’m happy with how things turned out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I can’t help but grin because I know she’s talking about Libba as she wears that big smile on her face. “Libba? Yeah, so is she. But Abs, if you hurt her, they will </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>find your body.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s cute. You taking me out? Never gonna happen. But you don’t have to worry. I really like her, like...more than I expected to. The thing is, uh, I’ve never...really been with a girl before. I don’t mean sexually, I mean at all. All of this is new to me and I’m so freaked I’m gonna mess it up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I clap her on the back and grin. “Just be you, dude. You don’t have to be Abigail dating a girl. Just be Abigail. She</span>
  <em>
    <span> likes</span>
  </em>
  <span> you. If anything, getting too into your head will be what screws it up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I’m surprised, that’s actually really good advice. As I hear the band wind down, we part ways and I return to the bleachers, wishing that I didn’t have to watch a whole second half of this pointless football game.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>so you'll notice i changed my pen name here, and i've also changed all of my social medias to the same, so you can find me on twitter @tallycravens now! </p><p>thanks for reading xo</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. You're a good distraction</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Raelle &amp; Scylla share a special night underneath the stars.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Trigger warning for mentions of suicidal ideation and self-harm.</p><p>This one's a bit short but it's kind of a transitionary chapter. The ones after are longer and more filled with stuff. As always, thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>R.C.—</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thank god that’s over. It’s not that I’m not supportive of my not-girlfriend and best friend, but even with them there, it was horribly boring. I’ll keep attending games for them but that doesn’t mean I’ll like it. Hanging out with Gerit wasn’t too bad, though. Scylla catches up with me and my mom after the game. We explain to her together that I’m gonna hang out for a while and she offers to drive us.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s still really weird for me to have my mama actually like the girl I’m into. She drops us off in front of Scylla’s home, which looks pretty normal outside. She stops me before we walk in, warning me that she has some foster siblings that can get a little crazy. Then she takes my hand and opens the door, guiding me gently toward the living room where her foster parents are waiting for my arrival.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s a kind looking woman with curly red hair and wire-rimmed glasses and a little blue eyed baby bouncing on her lap. She introduces herself as Cameron, and the salt and pepper haired gentleman next to her with the goatee as Jay. We exchange pleasantries, with me thanking them for the invitation. They insist it’s their pleasure, introduce me to the other kids, all of whom are younger than Scylla and I. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dinner happened an hour or two ago, but there are leftovers, they say. Neither Scylla nor I take them up on it. Instead, she grabs a blanket and takes me to the back yard, where the sun has already set and stars are visible on this cool autumn night.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought we could lie down on the trampoline and look up at the stars,” she murmurs, and I agree, climbing up onto the trampoline with ease.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We lay down together, the blanket draped over us and she takes my hand, glancing up at the sky with a soft sigh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I’ve never really believed in god or in heaven, but this is the closest to heaven I’ve ever been. She leans into me, her head cradled in the crook of my neck, before her lips press against my skin. I smile, my free hand moving to her waist, gaze drifting up to the gorgeous stars above.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was in the hospital,” she says quietly, and I’m about to ask what she means when she clarifies, “You asked before why it took so long to start at a new school. After everything that happened, I wasn’t in a good place. I wasn’t thinking straight and I just didn’t want to live anymore,” Scylla shudders against me and I pull my arms around her as she leans against my chest. “I lost everything all at once. It would be a lot for anyone to handle. I’m not over it, obviously, it hasn’t been that long, but I am okay. I’m not going to do anything like that again. So you don’t need to worry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She trusts me enough to tell me this, something incredibly personal, and I feel the need to reciprocate with something of my own, though I know she doesn’t expect me to. My own worries feel stupid compared to what she’s gone through. “I know it’s not the same, but I used to, uh, self-harm...before. Like, eighth, ninth grade.” That was just last year and the scars haven’t faded, which makes me super self-conscious. I know she’ll notice them eventually, if she hasn’t already.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So you get it. On some level, I mean,” she presses a kiss to my jaw and then pulls back just enough to look into my eyes. “I was scared to tell you. I thought you might think I was...pathetic, or weird, or...I don’t know. I just really like you and I don’t want to scare you away with all of my drama.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I meet her gaze evenly. “It’s</span>
  <em>
    <span> trauma,</span>
  </em>
  <span> not drama,” I correct her before brushing a strand of dark hair out of her eyes that’s fallen there. “I can’t imagine going through what you have. The fact that you’re here right now, that you’re functioning at all, is nothing short of a fucking miracle to me. Scylla, you’re not gonna scare me away. I want to know all of you. Every little thought that comes into your head. I want you to know me, too. I’m not gonna lie, I’m scared too. It’s hard to let people in. But I think, whatever happens with us, it’ll be worth it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right now, I’m just trying to be normal,” she whispers, lower lip trembling like she might cry. “I’m not ready for everyone at school to know about my...situation. I’m tired of people feeling sorry for me or treating me like I’m broken. I just need to try to move on and find things to focus on. Meeting you has helped. You’re a good distraction,” she smiles and catches my gaze before she leans in to kiss me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I melt against her, amused because we’re not paying any attention to the stars at all. I’m pretty sure it was all a ruse to get me outside so we could make out undisturbed. Not that I’m complaining. Our kisses are slow and intimate, with some heat behind them, but not too much. We’re just enjoying each other’s presence, no expectations about what needs to happen. It’s easy to lose myself in this, in her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Brought you something,” I hum when our mouths are finally apart and her eyes glitter in the moonlight as she sits up with obvious excitement. Laughing, I reach into my bag and pull out my sketchbook. She’d asked before about me drawing pictures of her, but today at the pep rally, I actually did. I open the sketchbook to the proper page and deposit it in her lap. “There.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scylla gingerly picks it up, looking at it closer, her cheeks flushing a beautiful pink. “Wow, I look beautiful,” she laughs in disbelief.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because you</span>
  <em>
    <span> are</span>
  </em>
  <span> beautiful,” I remind her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She must be thrilled with the drawing because we’re kissing again and this time she gets on top of me, straddling me as our kisses grow more and more intense. It feels different now and there’s no mistaking the heat in my belly. I know this isn’t going there, not yet, but the thought makes me nervous. Scylla knows I’ve never been with anyone like that before, but she has. If that day comes, I worry I won’t be any good at it. But as she kisses me the way she does, I stop worrying, because all I can focus on is how her lips feel against mine.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Scylla,” a firm voice says her name and we break apart, both blushing like mad. “It’s time for your friend to go home.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I look at my phone and go pale when I realize how late it is. I’m shocked my parents haven’t called or texted me yet, as it’s nearing eleven. “I’m so sorry, sir,” I murmur, fingers brushing Scylla’s before I sit up and hop off of the side of the trampoline. “Lost track of time. Let me call my mama to come get me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure. Scylla, I’ll be expecting you inside in ten minutes,” her foster father declares, not unkindly, but firmly enough. He gives us both a knowing grin and disappears back inside.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looks completely mortified. I make a quick call to my mother, who laughs and says she’d assumed I was spending the night, like she might actually be okay with that. This is new and I don’t know how to react to it. She says she’s on her way to get me, so I hang up and turn my attention back to Scylla. She’s looking at me funny.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” I ask, wondering why she’s giving me that weird look.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She grins, echoing my words, “Thanks, mama.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>My cheeks burn. I let the damn word slip in front of her. I don’t know why it embarrasses me so much, at least I don’t call her mommy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shut up,” I grumble at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She laughs uproariously, teasing, “You’re so cute when you’re grumpy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not grumpy!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Those pouty lips of yours say otherwise,” Scylla says in a sing-song voice, running her thumb over my lower lip. I quickly suck my lip into my mouth and her thumb with it. Her facial expression immediately darkens and her cheeks go pink.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ha. I win.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We walk hand in hand together toward the front yard, taking a seat on the porch so we’ll see my mother when she arrives. Scylla keeps my hand in hers, keeping it warm, and I lean into her shoulder, closing my eyes and just allowing myself to enjoy being here, now, with her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I look forward to our detention together tomorrow,” she confesses with a chuckle. “My foster parents had a good laugh over the story of our rule breaking.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is that why they insisted on meeting me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She nods and giggles at me. “Yes, well, that and how much I’ve been talking about you. I’m not exactly subtle when I like someone.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s good, because I can be kinda clueless sometimes,” I admit with a self-deprecating laugh. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As my mother’s car pulls into the driveway, I sigh and let go of Scylla’s hands to stand up. She stands, too, and we stare at each other for a moment. I’m just about to say goodbye when she suddenly kisses me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s kissing me in front of my mom...but I also don’t hate it. I’m a bit conflicted, so I don’t let the kiss go on for too long. My mama honks her horn and I wanna disappear, my face red as I murmur my goodbyes, running off to get into the car.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That was some kiss,” she remarks with a grin and I feel like my face is on fire. I put on my seatbelt and ignore her, not knowing how to react to her teasing. “Oh, come on, Rae. Lighten up. Happiness is a good look on you, kid. Haven’t seen you smile this much since you used to stay up all night giggling with Tally and Abigail.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I smile plenty around Libba and I resent the insinuation that she doesn’t make me as happy as the girls I haven’t hung out with since middle school. Our friendship is different, but I like it. My mother has never liked Libba and I don’t really understand why. Honestly, it bugs the shit out of me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When we make it home, I start toward my bedroom, rolling my eyes when I hear my mama telling my father about Scylla and I. It’s super weird having her approve of someone I like. I’d almost rather she hated her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With the game and everything else, it’s been a long day. I crash out in record time, but not before I set my alarm for my Saturday detention.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. (Don’t you) forget about me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Raelle &amp; many of her classmates attend Saturday Detention.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Trigger warning for drug use &amp; brief mentions of suicide and child abuse.</p><p>Well, this is my attempt at a little Breakfast Club tribute. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>R.C.—</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>My alarm blares, startling me awake with a jolt. I groan as I reach for my phone on the nightstand and turn the alarm off, rolling over onto my side and willing myself to get the fuck up. It isn’t until I remind myself that I’ll be seeing Scylla today that I find the motivation to get out of my too-cozy bed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Why is it my bed is so much more comfortable in the morning? It feels like some kind of conspiracy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Reluctantly I enter the bathroom, going through my usual morning routine. As much as I’d love to wear sweatpants and a comfy shirt, I wanna look good for Scylla. Besides, there’s that party later, and I’d have to change. I need to ask my parents about the party, which I had neglected to mention. The thing is, the moment I mention Abigail, Tally and Scylla will be there, I know my mama will practically beg me to go, so I’m not even worried about it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just like most mornings, I drink too much coffee, fill up on breakfast and grab my backpack on the way out. My dad offers to give me a ride but I decline. It feels wrong to be doing this on a Saturday, but when I catch a glimpse of Libba skating up to me, I can’t help but grin. Nah, this won’t be so bad.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s up?” She yells over at me, adjusting her sunglasses on her nose.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I laugh, catching up to her. “Oh, you know, on my way to the clink,” I tease, pausing to throw Libba one of my Airpods. She takes it gratefully and we listen to pissed off music all the way to school.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I’m honestly relieved that I have two more years of this to look forward to. Libba and I haven’t talked about it but I’m pretty sure there’s no chance of us going to the same university. The thought of not seeing her every day is like a punch to the gut. No sense in worrying about it now, though.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So,” Libba says as she returns my Airpod when we reach the school steps. “Excited to see your girlfriend?” She teases, knocking her board into mine playfully.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I smirk back over at her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Excited to see yours?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> I counter, making her face redden. Two can play that game.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As I pull my board up under my arm, I start toward the entrance, glancing back over my shoulder when I realize that Libba’s lagging behind. Abigail somehow snuck up behind her, arms around her and whispering into her ear. Seeing them together like this makes me feel like I’m intruding but before I can mutter an apology, Abigail pulls away from her and comes up to me instead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Rae,” she gives me a smile. “It’s really good to see you. Wish it was under better circumstances, though. This is gonna suck. I just know it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Libba catches up with us, moving to stand between Abigail and I, taking each of our hands and pulling us inside. Abigail gives me an amused look and I can’t help but reciprocate, because it’s starting to feel like maybe this is doable. The three of us, together, it doesn’t feel wrong like I thought it would. Maybe I am already on the road to forgiving Abs, and to know that is a relief. I’d been nervous about it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, great,” I groan once we reach the library.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Abigail glances over at me, not sure what I am reacting to. “What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Adil’s here. Uh, last night at the game, something happened.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Libba looks upset as she props her board up against the stacks. “What happened? You didn’t say anything.” Her voice is hushed because she doesn’t want Adil to overhear us talking about him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He was harassing me, calling me homophobic names and shit, but it’s fine. I’m alright. Gerit saved me with his saxophone,” I snicker at the memory.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Abigail raises her eyebrows in amusement. “Gerit? He did that on purpose? Adil was soooo pissed, oh my god, that’s hilarious.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but I don’t know if it’s a good idea to be going to his party tonight after what happened,” I shrug my shoulders because I was looking forward to the party, but not necessarily being at Adil’s house. He’s clearly not a big fan.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shakes her head firmly. “No, you’re going. I’ll talk to him.” Once Abigail makes up her mind on something, there’s no changing it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before I can protest, Abigail starts toward his table and I try not to watch, taking a seat at an empty table. There are four chairs per table, and Libba goes to sit across from me. Scylla isn’t here yet, I notice glumly as I throw my bag underneath and put my head down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You owe my friend an apology,” I hear Abigail speaking to Adil sharply and when I take a peek at her, I see that she’s digging her elbow into his ribcage. He’s wincing in pain, but it seems to be effective because he gives in and she lets him up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He mutters something under his breath, coming over to my table with the fakest smile I’ve ever seen, and I’m the master at those. “Uh, hey. I...wanted to say sorry about last night. It wasn’t okay, and…” Adil glances over at Abigail, who is standing there with her hands on her hips as if to say his apology isn’t good enough. “You don’t, like, deserve to be treated like that or whatever. So, yeah. I want to make it up to you I guess?” Abigail nods her head emphatically. “You should come to my party tonight. You can bring your…” He gestures to Libba. “Whatever.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The word you’re looking for is friend,” I murmur, holding his gaze and standing up, offering my hand out to him in an effort to make a truce. He reluctantly shakes my hand, but I shake his harder than he expects, if the shocked expression on his face is any indication. “We’re good. But you pull that shit again, it won’t be a saxophone that hits you. It’ll be me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He grins, jerking his head toward his teammate. “Or Abigail.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I’m pretty sure that he’s scared of her, which would be hilarious if it wasn’t completely warranted. He probably didn’t know that Abigail and I used to be friends or that we’re patching shit up now, or he never would’ve come after me. He and the rest of the team are genuinely intimidated by Abs and honestly? They should be. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t let people treat her friends like shit. She’s always been protective, and I can’t count the number of times she knocked boys in the dirt for me on the playground. I guess this is the high school equivalent of that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The detention monitor arrives, none other than everyone’s favorite English teacher, Ms. Clary. I feel bad that she got stuck with us on a Saturday, but I know her daughter went off to college and she doesn’t have anything better to do. As she gets set up, Tally, Glory and Scylla enter together, and I offer Scylla a place at my table. Tally &amp; Glory go to sit next to Adil, chattering animatedly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I assume everyone has brought some work to do?” Ms. Clary questions as everyone continues to talk, ignoring the question. “Ms. Craven. Ms. Moffett.” She says their names evenly and they turn to look at her, faces going red. “Since you’re all in need of something to keep yourselves busy, I’d like you to write me a thousand word essay...”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everyone groans. She isn’t as intimidating as Principal Alder or Coach Quartermaine, but she’s made it clear we’re not going to have any fun today. Typical English teacher, assign a fucking essay. “About who you think you are,” she finishes, pretending she hasn’t heard our reaction, or just not caring. I don’t like her that much right now. Being here is enough punishment, let alone having to write some soul searching paper detailing my deepest secrets or whatever it is she’s wanting from us. It’s fucking bullshit, and it’s everyone else’s fault for not shutting up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Who do I think I am? Hell if I know.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a resigned sigh, I reach into my backpack and pull out my notebook to start on the essay. Scylla brushes her fingers against mine and we share a smile. She already has her notebook out and writes “Hi” at the corner of the page with a cute little smiley face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I can’t help but grin despite my growing annoyance, reaching over to write back. Behind us, Ms. Clary finishes her coffee, and a few seconds later, she runs out of the library without a word.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That was weird,” I remark to no one in particular.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Adil stands up, wearing a wicked smirk. “Not that weird if you consider the fact that I put some Miralax in her coffee,” he snickers. “Should buy us some time. I gave her quite the dose.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He moves to sit on top of the table, pulling a deck of cards out of his back pocket as we all stare at him in disbelief. Seems like a pretty awful thing to do to a pretty awesome teacher, but none of us make a move to protest. Adil shuffles the cards, humming under his breath. “Strip poker, anyone?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Abigail scoffs, “Literally </span>
  <em>
    <span>no one </span>
  </em>
  <span>in this room wants to see you naked, Kanaan.” She turns to sit in her chair backward and leans her elbows onto the back of it. “I’ll only play poker if we’re playing for something that’s actually worth winning.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I really don’t think that we should be</span>
  <em>
    <span> gambling,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Tally whispers, glancing at the two of them disapprovingly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Adil ignores Tally’s protests and affixes his gaze on me. “I saw your Airpods. What do you say, Raelle? Care for a wager?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Like you don’t already have a pair,” Glory states, clearly unimpressed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sighs and shakes his head. “That’s not the point, I wanna take</span>
  <em>
    <span> hers,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Adil leans forward and grins at me. “Are we doing this or what?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m gonna pass. My parents would kill me if I let some rich douchebag win my Airpods in a stupid poker game. They had to save up for these.” I’m not ashamed to admit it either. Not everyone’s parents are loaded like Adil Kanaan’s.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Put away your cards,” Scylla says from her place beside me, the first words she’s spoken since entering the library. She pulls out her phone, turns the volume up and puts on some music before getting to her feet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She holds out her hand to mine and I grin, taking it and letting her spin me around. Tally laughs and gets up to join us. Adil takes one look at us and shakes his head, laying out his cards on the table to play a game of solitaire. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I’ve never been much of a dancer but I’m having fun anyway, jumping up onto the table and bringing Scylla with me. I give her a dramatic dip, but I catch her and she looks at me like I hung the moon. When she’s upright again she pulls me in for a kiss. I hear the sound of applause and pull back to see everyone but Adil clapping for us. He’s watching, though he pretends he isn’t, and that in itself is amusing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scylla takes a bow and looks down at our audience. “So, what next?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let’s raid the vending machines!” Libba declares with a raised fist. She yells like she’s leading us into battle and goes running out, Abigail hot on her heels. The rest of us follow, even Adil, laughing and carrying on down the hall.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If Ms. Clary is still in the restroom, there’s no doubt she’ll hear us, but if Adil was serious about doubling or tripling her dose, she’s gonna be chained to the porcelain throne for a while. I actually feel bad for her, but not bad enough to go check on her or anything. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We make it to the vending machines like a freight train, hands flying everywhere pressing buttons and putting in coins. Together Adil and Abigail shake and kick the snack machine, causing a handful of snacks to drop to the bottom. With our decent haul we head back to the library to eat, though the thought of Doritos and gummy bears this early turns my stomach.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” Adil laughs as he watches Tally dissect the Oreos, licking out the cream then opening a package of Reese’s Cups.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I laugh as I twist the cap open on my bottle of Coke. “Oh, this is her thing,” I explain as Tally’s tongue sticks out of her mouth, unwrapping one cup and placing it between the two sandwich cookies. “Oreo Reese sandwich. She’s been eating them that way since elementary school.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tally takes a bite and gives us all a thumbs up. “It’s pretty good, actually,” Abigail laughs, reaching for an Oreo and Reese Cup to do the same thing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tally’s a junk food connoisseur,” Glory agrees, shoving Cool Ranch Doritos into her mouth even as she speaks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Predictably Libba’s going to town on a bag of pork rinds. Adil finishes his Mountain Dew in record time and lets out a disgusting burp.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is that all you’ve got?” Abigail laughs, taking a big gulp of her soda and then unleashing an ungodly belch that beats the hell out of Adil’s.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One thing that I love about Abigail is that she’s competitive about literally </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It’s absolutely ridiculous, which is what makes it so damn entertaining.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We should probably write our essays…” Tally interrupts dutifully, having taken out her pen to start writing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Adil rolls his eyes at her suggestion. “Why, what can she really do to us if we don’t?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She chews on the lid of her pen, considering, “Probably give us more detention.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m here literally every Saturday anyway,” he shrugs in indignation, pulling a neon green golf ball out of his bag and throwing it against the wall.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Libba looks up from her now empty bag of pork rinds to glare at him. “Maybe you should stop bullying everyone and you’d actually get to have fun on a Saturday afternoon.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who says detention can’t be fun?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, but seriously, Adil. Why do you have to be such a dick to everyone all the time? Literally nobody likes you. If you’re doing it for some nonexistent coolness points, what’s the point? Because it’s not working.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The tone has turned serious and he knits his brows together as he shoots daggers at Libba with his eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Who asked you?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Adil catches his golf ball and throws it back against the wall again. It bounces off and hits him square in the forehead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We all collectively lose our shit laughing at him as he curses, the ball dropping to the floor and rolling away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Adil rubs at his forehead and glares at us. “Maybe my life isn’t so easy, ever think about that? I’m supposed to be captain of the team this year. But instead, I get hurt and Coach replaces me with a fucking...minion.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Libba’s anger predictably flares and she jumps to her feet. “Who are you calling a fucking minion, you tiny dicked prep school reject?” She huffs, jaw clenching as she’s inches from hitting Adil, only hesitating when Abigail steps in between them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cool it, Swythe,” she warns. “He’s just jealous and pissed off. It has nothing to do with you and everything to do with his asshole father. Right, Kanaan?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Adil doesn’t look happy about what Abigail’s said, which means there’s probably a grain of truth in it. “That’s not their business. Or yours. You don’t know what you’re talking about, so shut the hell up, Bellweather.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t we all just...take a breath?” Tally suggests, trying to step in to be the peacekeeper. She’s always hated arguments and had to referee plenty of them between Abigail and I back in the day.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scylla breaks her silence, her icy gaze trained on the sulking athlete. “We all have messed up shit in our lives, Adil. That doesn’t give us license to make other people’s lives miserable.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He scoffs. “Yeah, what do you know?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, my parents died in a fire, I lost everything I own and had to go live with strangers, so I’d say my life is less than perfect,” She responds evenly, and his eyes widen because he wasn’t expecting that, “but you don’t see me shoving Gerit Buttonwood in the hallway, or writing ‘cunt’ on someone’s locker in Sharpie marker.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But she</span>
  <em>
    <span> is</span>
  </em>
  <span> a-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t ask. Just because you’re unhappy doesn’t mean you get to make everyone else unhappy too. Get over yourself. We’re all dealing with things. You do realize that your abuse, on top of everything else someone might be dealing with, could lead to something really horrible happening? Like, what if Gerit’s depressed, and you won’t leave him alone, so one day he hangs himself in his garage?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I could literally not be more attracted to her right now. She’s told him off in the best way, the way I’ve imagined doing hundreds of times over the past two years. She has a point and it's exactly the kind of thing he needs to think about.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck, Scylla?” Abigail seems disturbed by the picture she’s painted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tally sticks up for her, moving in to stand next to Abigail. “No, she’s right,” her eyes fall onto Adil. “You don’t know what’s going on in any of our lives any more than we know about yours.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My dad hits me, okay?” Adil says after a brief silence, turning around and kicking at the table, wincing because it hurts his leg. “There’s always some reason, something I’m not doing right. Said the wrong thing. Burned his toast. Doesn’t matter. I’m his personal fucking punching bag. He thinks I’m the reason mom left us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I shake my head, sitting down at the edge of the table nearest to him. “Shit, I’m sorry, Adil. Wh-what about your little sister?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The face he makes has me regretting my question and I can see that he’s crying, but I don’t point it out. “I keep Khalida safe. He’ll have to kill me before he ever lays a finger on her. I’m saving up some money, gonna blow this town as soon as I’ve got enough to get her out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But Adil...you can’t do that. It would be kidnapping.” Glory murmurs, frowning at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shrugs his shoulders and laughs bitterly. “I don’t have any other options.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My social worker is great. I’m sure she’d be willing to talk to you about your opinions.” Scylla’s offer is kind but he blanches at it, launching into a rant about his own experiences with CPS and leaving her throwing up her hands in surrender.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s Libba’s suggestion that Adil smoke a joint to calm down and she produces one from her bag, making me shake my head. This is what got her into this and if she gets caught again, she could end up with drug charges. But I keep my mouth shut as Adil agrees, leading us all out behind the school. No one’s around and the chances of our teacher finding us are slim to none, right?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I give in, taking a hit off of the joint once it’s passed to me. Every one of us smokes it, except for Tally, who politely declines.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ever get tired of being such a goody two shoes?” Libba asks bluntly as she taps the joint and makes the ashes fall to the ground. “It seems exhausting, honestly.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tally sighs and I’m grateful to see that she’s not offended by Libba’s words at all. “Yes. It is. But stuff like this isn’t worth the risk for me. If I got caught doing something my parents disapproved of, they’d send me off to some religious boarding school and I’d never see any of you again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So I take it you’re not drinking at my party tonight?” Adil takes another hit, leaning against the brick building and exhaling a billow of smoke. “You could just make up an excuse. Say you’re spending the night with Glory or something.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Glory nods emphatically, agreeing with him. “He’s right. Your parents trust me,” she takes a drag and coughs intensely, water pouring from her eyes. “I don’t think it would hurt for you to have some fun once in a while, Tal.” She sputters, handing the joint back to Scylla before she wipes her eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There are so many things I haven’t experienced. So many things I wanna do, but I won’t get to, not until I’m not living under their roof.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I consider it for a moment before asking, “What things? We can do them all tonight. Like a one-night-only bucket list type of deal.” It seems like a good idea if this is her only chance. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um, kiss someone. Lose my virginity,” Tally answers, avoiding Adil’s eyes which are on her intently, and I know he’s about to offer himself up as tribute before she continues her list, tapping her chin thoughtfully as she speaks, “Watch an R-rated movie. Sing a song with curse words in it.  Eat a hot dog.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Eat a hot dog?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Libba repeats incredulously, snorting with laughter. “Okay, <em>what?</em> Are your parents vegetarian like mine, or?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Abigail interjects, “It’s a phallic symbol,” and Tally just nods her head, her cheeks reddening at the use of the word ‘phallic.’</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s fucking ridiculous,” Adil laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. “What, are you not allowed to eat bananas either?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her voice is tiny as she answers, “Only if they’re cut up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With that, we all feel horrible for her, and as a group we promise to help her get as many things on her list done as we can. But I don’t like the idea of Tally losing her virginity to anyone, least of all someone like Adil. Call me protective, but she deserves a more meaningful first time. I want to bring up inviting Gerit to the party but I don’t know how Tally feels about him. I know if I say something, Adil will make fun of her and any progress we’ve made today will be lost. Gerit genuinely likes Tally and I do think if they spent enough time together, things might eventually lead to where Tally wants them to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think all of our parents are fucked up,” Abigail remarks as we all return to the school building. “Don’t get me started on my mother and her constant pressure on me to be perfect. She controls every aspect of my life.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Glory stops to listen at the bathroom door, her eyes going wide. She covers her mouth with her hand to keep from laughing and continues to listen for a moment before running back over to us. Apparently there are some pretty explosive sounds still happening, so she’ll probably never know we left the library.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We need to get this essay done. It’s mid-afternoon now. But talking about our lives is weirdly helping because I’m thinking about my parents and my relationship with them, how that affects who I am as a person. That’s why I bring up my mother when we get back to the library tables. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve never been able to be the person she wants me to be. She likes Tally. Abigail. Scylla. Glory. Even Beth Fucking Treefine. She says she loves me, but she doesn’t even like me. I’m so tired of her trying to make me into something I’m not.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Abigail listens intently before suggesting, “You should tell her that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tell her how you feel. I know feelings aren’t really your thing, but...it might do you some good. The thing about our parents, now I’m not defending them, but they don’t always know what’s going on in our heads either. We’re, like, aliens to them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I don’t know about all that. I’m pretty sure that my mama knows how I feel. I feel like I’ve made it obvious, but then again I haven’t ever actually sat down and told her. Maybe Abigail’s right. The thought of having that kind of conversation with her actually scares me. I know we’re in a better place right now because of Scylla, though, so if I’m ever going to have that talk, maybe now’s the time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Libba stands up and declares dramatically, “My parents will adopt you all!” She smiles and looks around at all of us. “I’m sorry. All of you sound like you hit the shit-parent lottery. I feel kinda guilty because that’s not been my experience. That doesn’t mean I don’t have my own problems, though,” her face falters and I’m confused because I don’t know what she’s talking about.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s my best friend and if she’s struggling with something, I have no idea what it is. She’s never mentioned anything like that to me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Like what?” Abigail is the first to ask, threading her fingers through Libba’s.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Libba visibly freezes, pulling her hand away. “Nevermind. I- I don’t really want to talk about it.” Abigail seems to be satisfied enough with her answer and doesn’t push, but I’m concerned and a bit hurt that Libba hasn’t talked to me about whatever it is.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tally suggests we get to work on our essays, to which Adil and Abigail respond with a round of booing. Libba joins in. It’s Tally who decides rather than each of us writing our own essay, she'll write one for all of us together. There are computers in the library which are much faster than writing by hand. We all follow her over, offering our own explanations about who we are and what everything means.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What we end up with is pretty cheesy, but heartfelt. Tally has a way with words, describing each of us as who we are to the outside world, and who we are inside. The point of the whole essay is to say no one really knows what’s going on in each other’s lives, hearts and minds, and that’s why it’s important to be kind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yeah, like I said, cheesy. But it’s exactly the kind of thing Tally believes wholeheartedly...and so do I. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The freshly printed essay is deposited on the desk as the clock strikes 3:59 PM. Ms. Clary enters the doorway looking pale and used up, her forehead sweaty. The bell rings and she jumps, seemingly shocked into reality.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She murmurs as she glances at the clock,</span>
  <em>
    <span> “Have I really been…” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shitting the whole time? Yup,” Adil claps her on the back on the way out. “Thanks, Teach. Had a good time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We all file outside together, each going their separate ways. Tally and Glory get into Glory’s mother’s car, and Adil walks off in the opposite direction. Abigail lingers, giving Libba several kisses before she goes to get into her father’s idling vehicle. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Looking a little lovesick there, Libba,” Scylla quips, slipping her arm around my waist as we walk together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shrugs, putting her board down on the concrete. “Maybe.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Showing off, Libba jumps over the staircase and I sigh as she lands it perfectly. She’s always been more skilled than me and I don’t have the balls to try a trick like that, especially not in front of Scylla.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can you teach me how to do that?” Scylla asks with a grin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I laugh, “And risk you fucking up that pretty face? No.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We stop to say our goodbyes and Libba skates off, leaving us alone at the edge of campus. I still can’t believe Scylla told everybody about her parents at detention. Maybe everyone will keep it to themselves, but I have a hard time believing that. Glory has a big mouth and Adil’s an asshole, even if he has a reason to be.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her foster parents are expecting her back at home, so I send my mama a message and I walk her home, all that time thinking about how much my life has changed since I met her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I know it hasn’t been that long since we met, but I feel like I’m starting to live again in a way I haven’t in years. It's a good sign.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<span>After I kiss her goodbye, I skate my way back home, the sound of the wheels against the concrete sidewalk music to my ears. The party isn’t until later tonight, but I’m already looking forward to it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe this is what life is supposed to be like,</span>
  </em>
  <span> I think as I enter my house with a smile on my face. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Better late than never.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Go big or go home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Before heading to Adil's party, Libba contemplates some recent realizations.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Trigger warning for underage drinking.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>L.S.—</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What does someone wear to a high school party?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That’s the question on my mind as I stand in front of my loaded closet, picking my way through my shirts and vetoing every single one. I’ve never been invited to an actual party with a lot of people and honestly, I don’t know what to expect. Like my birthday party this year? It was just Rae and I hanging out like we usually do, but with cake.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s been a lot on my mind lately too, which doesn’t help, and picking out an outfit has a whole new complication to it. The thing is that I’ve been questioning some things about myself for a while now and I haven’t talked to anyone about it, not even Raelle. I sigh, dropping down onto my bed with my head in my hands, but thankfully, my phone’s incessant buzzing interrupts me feeling sorry for myself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I can’t help but smile when I pick it up and see I’ve got a text from Abigail. Things between us are going really well and it’s kinda like we’re dating just without the label. We hung out after the game last night, just laying on the empty field together staring up at the stars. I never thought I’d been into that dumb romantic shit, but somehow it’s not so dumb when you have someone to do it with.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s asking if I want to walk to Adil’s house together, but I know for a fact that she &amp; him live in the same rich neighborhood. Walking with me would mean going out of her way to veer into my area of town. It’s a sweet offer, but instead I suggest that we meet halfway. I could just ask my parents to drop me off if I really wanted to. They know I’m going to a party with Raelle. I don’t have to lie about where I’m going, unlike Tally, who has to say she’s spending the night with Glory...which isn’t<em> technically</em> a lie.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Honestly I can’t fucking wait until I get my license so I don’t have to walk or skate everywhere. But it’s still going to be a little while until I finish up my permit. Right now I can only drive with someone over twenty-one in the car. Annoying.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now that she’s expecting me to meet her, I don’t have a ton of time to choose an outfit. I change into my good sports bra, and even wear the matching little boy shorts, you know, just in case. They make my ass look good and tonight seems like the kinda night you want your ass to look good. I tug my skinny jeans over my hips with a groan, fastening the button fly and taking a final look into my bulging closet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I decide on a distressed looking Star Wars shirt and throw a dark blue flannel over it, buttoning it halfway and rolling up the sleeves. I slip my feet into my checkered vans and spit on my finger, rubbing at the canvas to try to remove a dirty spot. On my way out, I grab my favorite beanie and cover up my messy curls, shouting over my shoulder that I’m headed out and not to wait up for me. I’ll probably end up crashing somewhere, whether that be Adil’s, Raelle’s or maybe Abigail’s, if I’m really lucky.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So the thing about the clothes. They’re just clothes, right? They should be. But they aren’t. For as long as I could remember I’ve had a complicated relationship with my body. That’s pretty normal as far as I know, but it’s not like I think I’m too fat or too skinny or my skin is oily or my hair is too curly. It’s more like sometimes when I look in the mirror I don’t really recognize myself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I’ve done a lot of reading lately: forums, articles, Twitter and Tumblr pages, Yahoo Answers, anything I can get my grubby little hands on to figure out what the hell is going on with me.  I’ve always felt different from everybody else, ever since I was a kid, like there was something weird about me that made me like an alien. I remember watching dumb movies as a kid and wondering if I was secretly an alien or something. I’m different from my parents. I thought maybe I was adopted, but it turns out I’m not. I’m different from everybody I know and it’s only been in the past few months that I’ve begun to understand why.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I don’t want to make it some big thing. Like when I started dating girls, I didn’t make a big announcement or anything. I was just Libba dating a girl. Just because I finally have a word to describe what I feel inside, doesn’t mean I’m any different than I’ve always been. I just have more clarity. But at the same time, trying on a new label feels scary, intimidating, like maybe I’m co-opting some term and I’m not really what I say I am. I guess it’s some kind of imposter syndrome.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I don’t have to prove anything to anyone. I don’t want to come out all over again but at the same time, I want people to know, too. It feels so lonely being in this all by myself, even if it’s not that big of a deal. I mentioned it pretty vaguely at detention yesterday, only because everybody else was opening up about their lives. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe tonight, after I’ve had some liquid courage, I can tell somebody. Anybody. Just to say the words out loud:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m gender-fluid.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yeah.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I can do that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lost in my head, I almost don’t notice Abigail waiting for me at the end of the street. But when she comes running toward me I snap back to reality, laughing as she all but tackles me to the ground. Tackling is like...football for </span>
  <em>
    <span>I like you.</span>
  </em>
  <span> At least, I think it is.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” I greet coolly, though there’s nothing cool about me at all. She makes me wicked nervous, even now, and it isn’t until she kisses me that I can feel myself relaxing. I never used to be the kind of person to kiss someone out in the middle of the street like this, but maybe I’m growing a little bit. I’ve never been super comfortable with holding hands with a girl or kissing her in public and it’s not because I’m ashamed. I’ve just been attacked too many times and not just verbally.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I don’t think it’s</span>
  <em>
    <span> that </span>
  </em>
  <span>bad here. I’ve heard it’s worse in other places. Other countries, especially. So I’m lucky. But it sucks. I’m also not the kind of lesbian who is straight passing. Take one look at me and you see all of me. I refuse to femme myself up just to skate through life unscathed. I’m not even that masculine, I don’t think. It’s more about my energy, I guess. I put off that big dick energy, as Raelle likes to say. That always makes me laugh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The thing with Abigail is, I feel safe with her. She’s strong and outspoken. If someone said something or tried anything, she’d kick their asses. It’s kind of amazing. As she takes my hand and smiles at me, I know everything’s gonna be okay.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Detention sucked, huh?” She breaks through the silence and I glance over at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>God, she’s so beautiful. The sun is like a halo around her head and I’m pretty sure she’s the closest thing I’ve ever seen to a real life angel. “Nah, it wasn’t so bad. At least I got to hang with my girl,” the words slip out of my mouth with ease until I realize what I’ve said and internally panic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No, definitely not cool to call her that. We’re not together and she’s not ‘mine’ or anyone’s really, but she also doesn’t seem to care? She doesn’t correct me or act annoyed at all. She just grins at me and squeezes my hand, making my heart do that weird floaty thing that made me worry I was having a cardiac event the first time it happened. I just called her my girl and she didn’t disagree. Fuck, does this mean what I think it means?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Adil’s house comes into view and there are already a lot of cars out front. The sight makes me nervous and his home is fancy as shit. I’m sure Abigail’s place looks just like this, maybe even better. Everybody knows the Bellweathers are loaded. I wonder how they’d feel about their daughter dating me? I’m not sure I want to know. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She drags me toward the front door and doesn’t bother to knock, just opens it and walks in like she owns the place. There’s a group of folks in the living room, lots of familiar faces, but I hear some people saying the drinks are in the kitchen, so I let Abigail lead us there. She’s been here before and clearly knows her way around.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you have a drink preference?” She asks, looking through the options with an appraising glance, making it clear that she does.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I’m easy to please so I just shrug my shoulders. “Whatever you’re having,” that way when we kiss, it won’t taste weird. Look at me thinking ahead! I’m a genius.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No, but seriously, if I don’t make out with her tonight I am going to be super disappointed. Not like we didn’t already make out on the field last night. But still.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After getting drinks, she guides me downstairs, having heard Tally’s voice coming from the open basement door.  She’s talking so loud that I have no doubt she’s already wasted. The poor girl. She’s never had a drop of alcohol, it probably took her one wine cooler to get like this. Her head is in Glory’s lap and she’s insisting that her friend run her fingers through her hair. Whenever she stops, she snaps at her to keep going. Apparently she’s a very touchy feely drunk, which makes sense, really, because she’s touchy feely sober.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There you are,” I hear Rae’s voice from the corner, sounding relieved and motioning for me to join her and Scylla.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Abigail lets go of my hand and we exchange a knowing look before we go to sit down by them. From behind me I hear Tally describing her experience of eating her first hot dog. Apparently Adil had given her one when she arrived, so maybe he’s not all bad. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Been here long?” I ask them as I take a sip of my drink, trying not to make a disgusted face, but it’s hard because it’s so sweet and fruity. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What the hell is this?</span>
  </em>
  <span> It tastes like a fucking jolly rancher.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scylla shakes her head. “Not too long. We came down here because it was quieter. The guys upstairs were...well, I don’t know what they were doing, but they were very loud and annoying. So we stole away down here and found Tally and Glory. Oh. Oh, my god,” she laughs in disbelief, and I glance over my shoulder to see what she’s looking at.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Huh. Tally and Glory are full on making out right now. That’s...unexpected.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I turn back around, my eyes wide and a laugh escaping my lips. All of us collapse into giggles, but the girls don’t seem to notice. Abigail seems to be a little uncomfortable and I can’t help but wonder why.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do <em>all</em> the cheerleaders make out with each other, or…?” Raelle asks, clearly joking, but Scylla pretends to be all serious.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Before every game. For good luck,” she says it so earnestly that Rae, the idiot she can be sometimes, actually believes her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She actually seems pretty bothered by it, so much so that Scylla has to reassure her. “I’m joking,” she hums, leaning in closer. “The only lips I want to kiss are yours.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Under normal circumstances, that kind of thing would make me cringe, but Raelle’s smile is the best thing in the world as it lights up her face. Scylla makes her incredibly happy and I’m like a proud mom as I watch them lean in and kiss each other. But I don’t watch too long, because that would be weird. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everybody else making out and the vibe in the room is very odd, making me shift uncomfortably. Abigail puts her hand on my knee and leans in to whisper in my ear just as I hear something falling down the stairs. Or...someone, I guess. It’s Adil on a boogie board and he’s drunk as fuck. Wasted no time getting wasted, apparently, and doing shit like that when he’s already injured is stupid as hell. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he reaches the bottom, Byron runs down the stairs after him, he &amp; Abigail helping him over to the couch as he protests loudly. The making out has ceased, thank god, and I start toward them to help him into an upright position, taking a seat on the left side of him when she takes hers on the right.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You need to sit the fuck down, Kanaan. You’re acting a fool and you’re gonna hurt yourself,” she says sternly like she’s scolding a naughty child.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Adil huffs like a toddler and crosses his arms to his chest. “If you’re going to hold me hostage in my own basement, the least you could do is make it interesting. Why don’t we play a good old game of Truth or Dare?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ooooh, yes please!” Byron responds enthusiastically, clearly having had as much to drink as Adil has but holding it much better.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tally’s ears perk up. “Truth or Dare? I’ve never played that before.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Raelle shakes her head as she plops down on the floor in front of the sofa next to Byron with Scylla close behind. “You’re not missing much,” she mutters.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be such a buzzkill,” Glory complains, throwing a piece of popcorn at Raelle’s head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She catches it and pops it into her mouth, shrugging her shoulders as she meets Scylla’s gaze. “Do you wanna play?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure, why not?” The brunette agrees.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Adil rubs his grubby little hands together. “Alright then,” he looks at me &amp; smirks, and I know this is going to be horrible. “Swythe. Truth or dare?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I’m not into either option because whatever it is, it’s going to be embarrassing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dare,” I say after a moment, figuring I might as well go big or go home.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He grins, pausing and looking around the room like he’s trying to figure out who he’s going to dare me to make out with. God, I hope not. This could get awkward fast, but it is just a game, right? Hopefully it won’t cause problems, like jealousy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Switch clothes with Abigail.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That doesn’t seem fair, because Abigail’s sort of getting dared too. Our bodies are wildly different and I’m pretty sure my pants are going to be like, a foot too short for her. She seems game and starts to peel her sweater up over her head nonchalantly. Adil didn’t say we had to change in front of him, but I don’t want to look like a prude. I take off my flannel first, thankful that everyone else is looking away, but Adil isn’t. I try to ignore him as I take off the rest of my clothing, then pull Abigail’s sweater and skirt on. They fit decently but sitting there in her skirt really bothers me, because I’m not feeling feminine today. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I don’t want to make a big deal about it, but it turns out that my pants definitely don’t fit Abigail, so she’s happy to trade back immediately. I keep her sweater on because it smells like her and I don’t hate it. Besides, she looks really cute in my flannel. Abigail leans into my shoulder and sighs. I slip my arm around her waist and begin to plot my revenge, knowing it needs to be something good.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Adil, truth or dare?” I ask him, already knowing he’ll choose dare. He’s a daredevil, obviously, and he takes the bait just as I expect him to. With a devilish grin, I give my epic dare: “I dare you to shave off your left eyebrow.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t want us to think he’s a chicken, but he looks visibly shaken. Adil isn’t the kind of guy to back down from a challenge, so he gives me a salute and heads upstairs, presumably to the bathroom to complete his dare.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe you just did that,” Tally comments, giggling. “He’s gonna look so stupid. Oh, hello there, who are you, little one?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We all turn to look toward the stairs. A little girl, the spitting image of Adil, but small and a girl, is standing there. “I’m Khalida. Adil’s my brother. He told me to stay up in my room, but I got bored. What are you guys doing?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I hide my drink behind my back, because I don’t want to corrupt a kid. “Just playing a game with your brother,” I lower my voice and lean in, “Wait until you see what I dared him to do.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As if on cue, Adil starts down the stairs, and Khalida takes one look at him and promptly loses her shit. She falls to the floor and laughs and laughs, pointing at his missing eyebrow and trying to speak, but laughing too hard to be understood. “His eyebrow is gone!” She finally manages to say, leaning against the wall to catch her breath. “Wow, Adil, you look really weird.” She giggles and he flips her off, stomping back over to the couch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Abigail sighs, disapproving of his inappropriate response. “Don’t you think you should get Khalida some dinner or something? We can pause the game, finish it later.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m hungry,” Khalida agrees in a grumpy tone, glaring at her brother for good measure. This kid has an attitude, and I love it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He rolls his eyes, knowing he’s not gonna get out of feeding her dinner. “Okay. Whatever. What do you want?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“PIZZA!” She declares loudly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A girl after my own heart.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. The part where I kiss her</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Libba is inspired by truth or dare.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Trigger warning for underage drinking &amp; brief mentions of sex (and vomiting, unrelated).</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>L.S.—</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After the kid is fed, she gets sleepy and Abigail volunteers to carry her to her bedroom. I watch as she effortlessly scoops her up into her arms and carries her upstairs. It’s adorable to watch them interact and has me thinking about how being a parent doesn’t look so bad. Maybe it’s crazy to think that at only fifteen, since I’m still technically a kid myself, but the thought still occurs to me despite all that.</span>
</p><p>When she gets back downstairs, she's on deck.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright. Back to it. Abigail, truth or dare?” Adil’s the one asking again and I don’t technically know the rules to truth or dare, but he already gave me one so that hardly seems fair at all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t hesitate to say “truth”, which surprises me. Maybe she does it because no one’s chosen it yet, but the truth freaks me out. He could ask her anything and she’d have to answer, right? It doesn’t help that I don’t trust the dude. At all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have you ever fucked a girl?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh, gross. That’s invasive and nasty. I open my mouth to protest but Abigail grabs my arm and shakes her head at me. “It’s just ‘truth or dare’, Libba. I can handle it. No, I haven’t, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Predictably sassy as hell. But the way she looks at me when she says it pretty much kills me. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>RIP Libba Kane Swythe. Gone, but not forgotten.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Raelle’s face lights up and she starts laughing. I know it’s because I have to be blushing because my entire body is on fire. I’m not even mad because literally nothing else matters right now. Abigail basically just said she wants me, in front of everyone. I need to make her my girlfriend, like</span>
  <em>
    <span> immediately.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, Tally. Truth or dare?” Abigail’s hand settles onto my thigh and I try to ignore the way it makes my stomach clench. <em>Fuuuuuck.</em></span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The redhead clutches her Mike’s Hard Pink Lemonade to her chest thoughtfully. “Hmmmmm,” she takes a drink before answering. “Dare.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I dare you to call Gerit Buttonwood right now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her face goes immediately red. “What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Raelle doesn’t sound happy about it, shooting her a look. “Abigail…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I have no idea what’s going on. Guess I’m out of the loop. Why would Tally have Gerit’s number? Does she like him? Man, I’ve never been one for gossip, but now I’m feeling left out. Tally sighs and Abigail reminds her that she can take a punishment instead of doing the dare and while I know nothing about this punishment rule, it sounds terrible.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She agrees to the dare, pulls out a note and her phone, then dials his number. Tally shoves the note back into her bag before anyone can get more than a peek at it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hello?” Gerit answers and Tally says nothing. She’s put him on speaker so we can all hear him. “Uh, hello?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Glory nudges in the knee Tally hard. “Ow! I mean, hi! Um, Gerit, this is Tally...Craven.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, wow. Tally. Hi. Are you okay? You sound a little weird.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We all do our best to hold back our laughter, but it’s difficult as Tally answers, “Sorry. I’m maybe a little bit not sober right now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What? Seriously? I didn’t know you did that kinda thing.” He sounds a bit disappointed in her and she’s quick to defend herself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No! I mean, this is the first and probably only time. I feel...quite strange.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Quite? Who says quite?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sounds genuinely concerned when he asks her, “Are you alright?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, yeah I’m totally...good. Listen, I, uh, got your note. It was a really good note. I just wanted to tell you how much I liked it.” Tally is very much a babbler under normal circumstances, but tipsy she’s something else. She’s speaking quickly but also slurring pretty badly and I’m surprised that Gerit can even understand her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Really? Okay. That’s- that’s great.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She nods her head emphatically as if he can see her doing so, but it’s not a video call. “Totally. Yeah. I should probably go, but...Gerit?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes, Tally?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Shit, it’s so cute the way he says her name.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Text me later. If you want.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Okay, yeah, I d-definitely will.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“K, bye.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After hanging the phone up, Tally grabs a pillow and screams into it. Adil looks around the room seeming just about as confused as I feel. “What the hell was that? I thought you were gonna prank him or something. That was lame as fuck.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She ignores him, her face redder than I’ve ever seen it and throws the truth or dare back to Glory, who opts for truth. That doesn’t surprise me much. “Who do you have a crush on?” Tally asks with a grin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her face goes ashen and she shakes her head. “No. No thanks. Punishment, please.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That's weird. The question isn't that bad.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Adil, do you have any pets?” Tally’s question seems random at first, and she’s got me curious. I listen as he answers her, wondering what she has in mind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What? Yeah, we have a cat, why?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The redhead snickers and turns to her friend, trying to keep a straight face as she tells her, “Glory. Your punishment is to eat a can of cat food.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Gross,” she complains, but she’s actually a good sport about it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Adil brings her a can of cat food and a spoon. I can’t bear to watch, it’s too disgusting. I hear her open the can and look away, listening to everyone else’s reaction instead. I can hear her gagging at first, then she asks if she has to eat the whole can. I’m pretty sure that this plus the alcohol she’s had tonight is gonna end in her barfing all over Adil’s family’s nice carpet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I can’t help but wonder who Glory has a crush on, if she’d rather eat a can of cat food than say it out loud. It only makes sense for it to be someone in this room. I’m not entirely clueless. By process of elimination, it’s obvious who she likes. She looks at the girl like she hung the moon. Poor Glory. Tally is completely oblivious.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Much to my surprise, she finishes the entire can without yakking. “That wasn’t so bad,” she remarks with a shrug.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wow. That was</span>
  <em>
    <span> impressive,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Scylla laughs, leaning into Raelle. Glory tells her it’s her turn and she immediately blurts out, “Dare.” She has a lot of personal life stuff she’s not into sharing, so I get that. I just hope Glory has mercy on her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It turns out that Glory sucks at coming up with dares. It takes her forever and when she finally says it out loud, it’s totally lame because everyone knows what she’s gonna do. Glory’s dared her to kiss the hottest person in the room. I avert my eyes as Scylla predictably pulls Raelle in for a kiss and I boo.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you just boo our kiss?” Rae furrows her brows at me and shoots me a playful glare.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Abigail stands up for me. “Just a lame dare, not your fault.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This means that Scylla gets to ask Raelle for her truth or dare and after spending way too long considering it, she decides on dare.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I dare you to be my girlfriend.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s lots of heart eyes between them and Byron has to interrupt, because he hasn’t gotten his turn yet. He chooses to tell the truth and his question is an amusing one. Raelle asks if he had to have sex with one girl at our school, who he would choose. It’s hilarious because he’s so gay. Like, it would be the equivalent of asking Rae the same thing about a dude.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He laughs out loud, finishing his wine cooler and putting the empty bottle on the floor. “I don’t know, maybe Libba?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now it’s my turn to laugh. “Yeah, in your dreams,” I say, though I am more than a little flattered by his answer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He explains that I have a masculine kind of energy and then he worries I’ll be offended by that, but the truth is that I kinda love that he thinks so. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now that we’ve all had our turns, the game is over, thank god, and I definitely don’t want another one of these disgusting cherry flavored drinks. I barely got this one down. Scylla and Raelle are making out pretty heavily now that they’re officially girlfriends. Adil lets out a loud sigh and gets up, muttering under his breath about ‘boring gay shit’ and heads back upstairs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That’s when Abigail suggests that we get out of here. I’m definitely not gonna disagree. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I say my goodbyes and we head out together, taking a walk to the park and getting on the swings. I have to say I haven’t been on a swing since I was little. I missed the feeling of my stomach flipping over every time I fly up into the sky. It reminds me of simpler times, before life got so complicated and confusing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She breaks the silence first. “Um, can we talk about the thing that Adil asked me?” Abigail asks, glancing over at me from the swing beside mine. Clearly it’s been weighing heavily on her mind all night.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I put my feet down on the ground to slow myself to a halt, shoes crunching in the gravel. “Yeah, sure,” I say with a nod before letting her know, “but it doesn’t matter to me if you’ve never been with a girl before.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This is the perfect time to tell her, I realize as my heart climbs up into my throat. I can literally feel it beating there. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I really want to tell </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone</span>
  </em>
  <span>, why not Abigail? Why not tonight?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I just wanted to make sure that what I said about wanting to...didn’t freak you out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I can’t help but laugh because she really thinks that would scare me away. I’ve never known her not to be confident about something and to hear her so nervous &amp; uncertain about my reaction touches my heart. I realize now that cares a lot about me and I don’t really know how I got so lucky.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I get up off of my swing, moving to face her and putting one hand on the chains on either side of her, all without breaking our shared gaze.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, Abigail, it didn’t freak me out,” I assure her, absently biting at my lower lip because I can’t believe I’m finally about to speak the words out loud to another person. “I want to, too. But the thing is, even if we...hooked up, you still might not be with a girl.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Abigail cocks her head and furrows her brow, seeming every bit confused by my words, but still managing to look absolutely adorable. “What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um, well, I’m...gender-fluid.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, wow, I said it.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The only thing is, she has no idea what I’m talking about. I can’t fault her for that, though, considering I didn’t even know the term for it until recently.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay…” She winces, looking apologetic, “Sorry, can you explain what that means?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s difficult to put into words, but I try anyway, because I really want her to understand. “Like sometimes I feel like a girl, but also sometimes I don’t?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Abigail looks thoughtful, gazing up at me as she considers her words carefully. “So, like being sexually fluid, but with your gender?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah!” I can’t help but sound excited because she actually seems to get it, or at least she’s trying to, and that means a lot to me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cool. Thanks for telling me,” she beams before growing more serious, “I don’t know if you’re, like...worried it’s going to change things between us, but if you are, you don’t need to be. It doesn’t change anything for me. I like you for you, whether you’re a girl, a guy, both, neither,” she shrugs her shoulders and looks at me. “I’m pansexual. In case you didn’t know. I just really like you, Libba. A lot."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I know she’s dated guys before, and that she’s interested in girls, but I did have some concerns about how she’d react to my confession. Her words set my mind at ease and I smile, gently nudging her foot with my own. “Thanks. I guess I was a</span>
  <em>
    <span> little </span>
  </em>
  <span>nervous, yeah. Good to know I don’t have to be. And...I like you a lot too."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her expression is frustratingly unreadable as she states, “I have a question.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, shoot.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She grins at me, putting her hands on top of mine where they’re resting on the swing chains.She makes my heart race as she stares directly into my eyes. “Can I call you my girlfriend? Or do you prefer to be my boyfriend? Maybe...my partner?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wow.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She actually beat me to it. I want to be annoyed by that, because I <em>really</em> wanted to be the one to ask, but she asked so cutely and she’s looking at me like<em> that</em> so all I can really feel is ridiculously happy and overwhelmed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait. Are you…” I’m blushing like crazy and she just nods, waiting silently for my answer. “Yeah. I’m cool with you calling me your girlfriend. I’ll, uh, I’ll let you know if that changes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I’m pretty sure this is the part where I kiss her. So, I do just that. Her hands move to my hips as our lips come together, both of us grinning against each other’s mouths. There is no doubt that she’s just as happy as I am.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Effortlessly, she lifts me up onto her lap and I wobble at first thanks to the swing, but once her arms wrap firmly around my waist, we are able to maintain our balance. Her kisses take my breath away, my heart hammering painfully against my ribcage. I don’t think I’ve had these feelings before and while it scares the shit out of me, I’m able to put it all out of my mind because I trust her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe that’s stupid, because this hasn’t been happening for long, but this moment feels real in a way I could have never imagined. It’s hard not to be a romantic when a girl like Abigail Bellweather kisses you like that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Between kisses, she asks me, quite breathlessly: “Do you want to stay over?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yes. Yes, I do.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. I could get used to this</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After spending the night at Abigail's, Libba is blissful.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Trigger warning for brief mention of sex.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>L.S.—</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As I wake in a tangle of limbs, Abigail’s long arms and legs wrapped around me, I can’t help but smile. The sun is streaming in through the windows, making me squint, and normally, I’d be grumpy about waking up so early, but it’s hard to be mad when you wake up in bed with the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So, about last night. Some </span>
  <em>
    <span>things</span>
  </em>
  <span> happened. I’ll leave it to your imagination, but it was nothing short of incredible. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the time we’d walked back to Abigail’s place, the two of us were freezing cold and suddenly sober. I don’t think either of us were planning for things to go there, but I definitely have no regrets. I hope when she wakes up, she won’t either.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This still doesn’t feel real. When I try to wrench my arm free, Abigail murmurs something and I grin, loving the way she looks in the morning sun. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What was that, beautiful?” I whisper, cupping her cheek in my hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She leans into my touch, her eyelids slowly fluttering open as she mumbles sleepily to me, “M’glad you’re here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Me too, Bells,” I decide to test out a new nickname, since she’s half asleep anyway and if she doesn’t like it, I can pretend she misheard me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looks me straight in the face, lets out a sigh, making a soft request, “Kiss me.” I want to, but when I think of morning breath, I remind her of that unfortunate fact. “I don’t care,” Abigail huffs, “Kiss me, damnit.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Who could argue with that?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I give in, kissing her sweetly and she wraps her arms around my neck, leaning her body into mine. “I need a shower. Do you wanna come?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s Sunday, so I assume her parents are home, questioning, “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Your parents…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are already at work,” she finishes, pecking my lips and lazily running her finger along my jaw. “Mm, don’t worry so much.” Abigail pulls her arms back and stretches like a cat, yawning as she slowly gets to her feet. “You don’t have to come, but you can if you want to,” she offers over her shoulder before she starts toward the bathroom.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I don’t think I’ve ever gotten up so fast in my life.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After our shower, Abigail leads me to the kitchen for breakfast. When I think of breakfast, I think of a Pop Tart or a bowl of Cheerios, but apparently, that’s not how it goes in the Bellweather household. They actually have a personal chef at their beck and call, and Abigail encourages me to make any request of her. It’s super weird for me, just not what I’m used to, but under my girlfriend’s gaze I eventually give in and say I wouldn’t mind some french toast and bacon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“See, was that so hard?” She asks teasingly as she pours herself a cup of coffee. “We’ve got coffee and fresh squeezed orange juice, what would you like?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I laugh out loud. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Fresh squeezed?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>I repeat, because I’m sure she’s joking. I’ve never had orange juice out of anything but a carton, probably squeezed weeks or months ago, nowhere near the realm of ‘fresh.’</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, do you want some?” She wrinkles her nose when she smiles and I nod, watching as she sings quietly while she grabs me a glass from the cupboard. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It feels like we’re playing house, the two of us waking up together, alone at home like this. If this is what life with Abigail is like, I hope I can stay in her life forever. It’s not about the house or the chef, though, because I could take or leave that. It’s about the little things like hearing Abigail’s sleepy voice, being able to trace my fingers along her broad shoulders in the shower and noticing all sorts of new things about her mannerisms and behavior. I’m in this deeper than I realized.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She leads me into the living room to wait on breakfast, flipping on the television for background noise. Abigail takes a sip from her coffee, placing the mug on top of a marble coaster before she turns to me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know, I’ve been thinking…” She says, trailing off and leaving me on edge. “You know what next week is, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What? The Homecoming game?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, yeah, but not the game…” Abigail’s staring at me and I’m staring blankly back, not really understanding where she’s going with this. I never said I was smart, okay? “The dance, Libba. I want to go to the dance together, if you’re into that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I have never been to a single school dance in my life, but then again, I’d never attended a football game before and now I’m playing it. I’m changing and growing more each day and it’s truly very strange to feel it happening in real time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looks concerned because I haven’t said anything. “It’s okay if you don’t want to go,” she says after a moment, but I can tell by the look on her face that she feels otherwise.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I want to!” I shout hurriedly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her eyes go wide before she lets out an incredulous laugh.  “Well, okay then.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve never done this before. So...can you tell me what I need to do? Like, am I getting you flowers, taking you out to dinner…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s up to you, but I wouldn’t be mad about it.” She catches my hand in hers and presses a playful kiss to my fingertips. “And you can wear whatever you want to wear, by the way. Whatever makes you feel good. I just want to have fun together.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I smile, assuring her softly, “I always have fun with you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The chef interrupts to let us know breakfast is finished and she carries in a loaded plate for us both. My stomach growls the moment I smell the french toast and I waste no time eating it. I don’t care how disgusting I might look because I’m starving. Luckily Abigail does the same and we glance over at each other, laughing with our mouths full. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She licks syrup from the tines of her fork and smirks. “I am so glad to be with someone who doesn’t care about how I eat. There was this guy, he and I went out for dinner and he ordered me a salad. The audacity! I still get pissed off just thinking about it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And you’re making me </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> glad I don’t date dudes anymore.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh, you better not be dating any dudes,” she murmurs before she crunches her bacon. “I should probably warn you, I’m the jealous type.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That doesn’t surprise me at all. “Oh yeah?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“<em>Oh, yeah</em>. Big time,” she puts her empty plate down on the glass topped coffee table and sighs. “It’s a whole big thing with me. Trust issues. I wouldn’t say I get<em> unreasonably</em> jealous or anything, but I’ve been burned before.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After putting my plate off to the side, I scoot closer to her and take her hands in mine, looking into her eyes before assurring her, “You don’t have to worry about that with me. I don’t date much, and when I do…” I glance down at the carpet. “I fall hard, fast, and I’m all about the person I’m dating. I won’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>think</span>
  </em>
  <span> about another girl like that. How could I? You’re the best one.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am, aren’t I?” She preens, pleased with my response and leaning in for a kiss. I guess she really liked my answer. “<em>Are</em> you falling for me, Libba?” Abigail asks, catching my off guard.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I’m a lot of things, but I’m no liar. “Not, like...full on yet, but...yeah. A little bit.” I hope that she doesn’t get freaked out by that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>My phone buzzes against my thigh, making me jump and Abigail laugh. I pull it out to see that I’m being summoned home and I groan, laying my head in my girlfriend’s lap. She runs her fingers through my curls reverently.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Time to go, huh?” She whispers, sounding regretful.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I really,</span>
  <em>
    <span> really </span>
  </em>
  <span>don’t want to. “Yeah,” I answer, but make no move to get up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She sits there, fingernails scratching pleasantly against my scalp until my phone buzzes again, my mother not appreciating that I’ve ignored her. “You should text her back,” Abigail leans over and pulls my phone out of my pocket, asking for my passcode. I give it to her without a second thought and she lets my mom know that I’m headed home soon, only to get an insistent text that she picks me up. She asks for the address and Abigail gives it to her, slipping my phone back into my pocket and then pulling me into a sitting position.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She kisses me a few times, arms wrapping around my neck. It’s clear she doesn’t want me to go either. When we finally come up for air, I’m wearing a goofy smile. “So, what color is your dress?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cherry Red.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Of course it is. Abigail’s always one to stand out. I can already picture her in it, hugging all her curves in the right places, lips painted red to match. “And if I said no, who were you going to take?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She raises a quizzical eyebrow at me. “Please. You were never gonna say no. I...have got you wrapped around my little finger,” she whispers, leaning in close and brushing her pinkie along my jaw. It affects me waaaay more than I wish it did. “Sorry in advance, my heels are pretty high.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Like I need her to be</span>
  <em>
    <span> even taller </span>
  </em>
  <span>than she already is.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I’ll find some platform shoes,” I joke, pecking her lips and asking if she’ll wait outside with me. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She nods, taking the plates and dropping them on the kitchen counter before following me out to the front door. The two of us go to sit on the front step of her porch and she pulls me onto her lap, arms wrapping around me from behind, her chin resting on my shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Quietly, she makes a confession, “I could get used to this.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Me, too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When my mother’s Hyundai Elantra pulls into the driveway, I reluctantly pull myself away and promise I’ll text her, waving goodbye and nearly skipping over to the car. I get in, humming under my breath as I put on my seatbelt. I glance out the windshield and Abigail’s standing on the porch, just looking at me. My heart lurches.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>God. I got it bad.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, that’s Abigail, huh?” My mother asks, startling me as her words break me out of my trance. I don’t know how she could possibly know that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She starts the car and I squint over at her. “Who told you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Raelle,” she says simply, pulling backward out of the driveway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I’m gonna kill her with my bare hands, I think, but I’m still smiling because Abigail is still watching me leave. I feel a little bad for leaving her all to her lonesome. She really does seem awfully lonely. I didn’t say anything because I don’t want to make her feel bad, but her parents are never around. It’s just her and her personal chef, who can’t be great company considering she’s paid to be there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s my girlfriend now,” I finally say, because I know she’s already thinking about it. “We’re going to Homecoming together.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>My mother seems genuinely shocked and when she reaches the stop sign, she glances over at me with some mixture of amusement and surprise. “Are you really? Wow, I never thought I’d see the day. Must be <em>some</em> girl to get you to do all that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” I agree, leaning against the cool car window with a happy sigh. “Yeah, she is.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Making time for each other</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Libba &amp; Raelle spend some quality time together.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>L.S.—</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We’ve both gotten more than a little bit wrapped up in our girlfriends lately. Raelle and I haven’t hung out in a while, so I suggest that she come over after practice. I never want to be one of those people who just drops their friend when they’re dating someone. Our friendship is important to me, and always will be.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t even knock when she arrives, just walks right in. I love that she feels at home here, because it’s the same for me at her place. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” I call out from the living room and she follows my voice, grinning at me. “We’re having vegetarian lasagna for dinner. Sorry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her smile fades just a bit, but she shrugs her shoulders before plopping down next to me on the sofa. “I’ve had worse.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s better than tofurkey.” Raelle had gotten to try it during Thanksgiving last year. Needless to say, she wasn’t a fan.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She crosses one leg over the other and turns toward me, leaning in as she quietly asks, “So, how are things going?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, Abigail and I are going to homecoming…” I announce, because I haven’t had the chance to talk to her privately since everything happened. I know it’s a big deal and I really wanted to tell her in person. I can’t even wipe the stupid grin off of my face as I tell her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looks surprised, but not because I’m going. “Homecoming? When is that?” She doesn’t even know that it’s this week. Hell, I wouldn’t have either if I wasn’t on the football team and dating Abigail. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Saturday.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her eyes land on the carpet, her face stoic. “Huh. Scylla hasn’t said anything.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I know Raelle well enough to know that she’s upset. I can’t blame her, because she’s worried that Scylla doesn’t want to be seen with her in public or something, but I have a hard time believing that’s the case. She kissed her in the middle of the cafeteria. That’s not really the type of thing someone does if they want to keep their relationship a secret.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s one explanation that makes sense to me, so I helpfully remind her. “Maybe she’s afraid to ask. You’re not exactly the school dance type.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not, but I’d go for her.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I get that, because it’s the same for Abigail and I. I always thought things like Homecoming seemed stupid and I just know the music’s gonna suck, but it’s not about any of that. It’s about making my girlfriend happy and making memories together. I think we’d have fun no matter what we are doing together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You should ask her then,” I encourage her, hoping to perk her up a little. “Make it a big gesture. She won’t see it coming.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looks at me incredulously. “What, like one of those prom-posal things?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah! I mean, Homecoming is basically underclassman prom anyway.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Raelle laughs, throwing her arm over the top of the couch. I can see the wheels turning in her head as she tries to come up with an idea to ask Scylla to Homecoming. She’s never done any big romantic gestures and neither have I, so there might be some research involved in this. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are you wearing to Homecoming?” She asks after a moment. “Ugh, god, I only have a few days to figure all this shit out. You should’ve said something! You know how much I suck under pressure!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I explain that my parents actually took me to get my first suit yesterday. It’s black, so I can use it for any occasion, but I’m pairing it with a cherry red vest and a matching ascot. I never even knew an ascot was an option, but it’s a lot more whimsical than a regular tie or a dorky bow tie. When I tried it on, I felt more confident than I ever have. The look on my face was enough to convince my mother that I needed the suit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Raelle seems interested, asking where we purchased the suit. She’s never been the dress kind of girl so this doesn’t surprise me, but I’m kinda stoked at the idea of both of us rolling up to the school in matching suits. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Our parents are going to take soooo many pictures,” I warn her, laughing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She rolls her eyes, but she’s still smiling. “Yeah, I know. Let’s just let them have this one.” Rae’s foot nudges mine and she grins. “So, any idea when dinner will be ready?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can check. She just put it in before you got here.” I duck into the kitchen and ask, returning to the living room a few moments later. “She says about fifteen minutes. Do you wanna play something when we’re done?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s been a while since we played video games together. Raelle nods, suggesting that we play a game of Rock Band, which we used to be completely obsessed with two summers ago. Now all of the instruments are gathering dust in the basement.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once dinner is ready, we all gather at the table, which is old and made of oak with mismatched chairs. Everything in our house is mismatched, because most of it was bought independently at various thrift &amp; consignment stores. There’s something about that fact that makes my house feel especially cozy. It just feels...lived in. But the thought of having Abigail over makes me nervous, because our home is pretty much the opposite of hers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s good to see you, Raelle,” my father says as he cuts her a piece of lasagna and deposits it onto her plate. She doesn’t look enthused but he doesn’t seem to notice. “Libba tells us that you have a girlfriend now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That was payback, because Raelle had told my parents about Abigail. She looks at me and I raise my eyebrows at her, smirking as I stab my lasagna with my fork. “Uh, yeah, I do. Scylla. She’s awesome.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s a very pretty girl,” my mom tells my dad, “A cheerleader.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Raelle glares at me and my father lets out a laugh. “A cheerleader? Dating </span>
  <em>
    <span>Raelle?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Now that’s unexpected. You know I always hoped the two of you would end up together,” he points at us and both of us roll our eyes. Raelle also makes a dramatic gagging sound. “It’s just that you fit in with the family so well. But I’m happy for you both. Your first big high school relationships. We haven’t met this Abigail girl yet. Do you know her? Libba hasn’t said much.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Damn it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah, we were best friends when we were younger. We’re still friends, just not as close. She’s on the football team. 4.5 GPA. Her parents are loaded.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I choke on my lasagna, coughing loudly. My father ignores my reaction and swallows his bite of lasagna before responding. “4.5 GPA? How is that even possible?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“AP classes,” I answer, my eyes watering. I take a sip of tea, which helps with the lingering feeling of lasagna stuck in my throat. “She’s way smarter than me. Lower your expectations. That’s never gonna be me,” I chuckle at the thought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I’m not stupid or anything. Maybe if I applied myself more, my grades would be better, but they aren’t bad by any means. A’s and B’s, an occasional C. I don’t think Abigail has ever gotten a C in her life.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>My mother puts down her fork and wipes her mouth. “We <em>will</em> be meeting Abigail and Scylla on Saturday, right? For Homecoming? Your mother and I have already talked about it. We’ve decided to take the pictures at your house. They’ll turn out nicer. Wait until you see how...handsome Libba looks in a suit.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh, yeah, I almost forgot, I told my parents about the gender-fluid thing. Haven’t mentioned it to Raelle yet, but I know she won’t be surprised. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Probably. I haven’t exactly asked Scylla yet. I’m trying to come up with some special way to ask her,” she shrugs her shoulders, picking at her lasagna and moving it around the plate so it looks like she's eaten more than she has. “Any ideas?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, you could show up outside of her window with a boom-box…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I snort. “Dad, nobody uses boom-boxes anymore.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My suggestion would be to show her how much you care about her,” my mother suggests with a wistful sigh. “And have fun with it. You’re teenagers. You don’t need to take yourselves so seriously all the time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I hate to admit it, but that’s actually pretty decent advice. With dinner (mostly) eaten, we sneak out a bag of chips and head downstairs to play. I place the drumset down by my favorite chair and slip the sticks into my pocket, leaning down to turn on my Playstation while Raelle grabs a guitar. Neither of us can sing for shit, so we usually just play the instruments. Last time one of us tried to sing, there were complaints.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You think Scylla and Abigail would be down to play with us sometime? We could have, like, a full band,” I remark as I sit down, navigating through the menus and choosing a setlist for us to play.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Raelle shrugs as she throws the strap of the guitar over her shoulder. “I don’t know, maybe. Abigail used to play video games with me a lot before. Just to warn you, she’s really competitive.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I’ve noticed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We haven’t played this game in a long time and probably should’ve picked an easier song. My arms feel like they’re gonna fall off with the force that I’m drumming. When the song is finally over, I lay the sticks down on top of the drums and glance over at Raelle. She looks back at me and snickers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wow, we suck,” she says cheerfully.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I can’t help but laugh as I lean back into my chair. “You think we suck, you should see my parents try to play.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“One song and I already need a break. Weaksauce,” the word makes me smirk, because it’s one I used to use ages ago, but now makes me totally cringe. “Um, can I run something by you?” The question piques my interest and I nod, waiting for her to ask whatever it is that’s on her mind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What she tells me is her idea for asking Scylla to Homecoming and it’s so cute, ridiculous and honestly perfect that I know she’ll say yes. Since we’re talking anyway, I switch the input on the TV back over to cable and jump onto the couch with her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oooh. You look serious, what’s up?” She asks teasingly and I roll my eyes, poking her in the side.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I don’t feel that serious, because this isn’t a big deal, but sometimes I can’t control my facial expressions. My face tends to do whatever the fuck it wants. “Nothing big,” I assure her with a soft smile, not a hint of anxiety about what I’m about to tell her. “I just wanted to tell you that I realized I’m gender-fluid.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really? That’s cool.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This is why I love Rae. Well, one of the many reasons. It’s just that easy. I want her to know that nothing’s really different for me and she can keep treating me the same way, so I tell her, “Yeah. This doesn’t really change much. I’m still Libba and I don’t give a fuck about pronouns. Whatever you wanna call me is cool.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She pats my knee lovingly then leans in close. “But you </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> like your mom calling you handsome, right? I thought I saw you blush.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shut up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I shove her away playfully and she laughs. “Aw, I missed you, Lib. There’s so much new shit going on. Girlfriends and football practice...we just need to keep making time for each other.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I concur. I don’t want our friendship to suffer as a result of all of the other things I’m involved in. I think she needs a hobby of her own, maybe taking some art classes or something, because I know she’s bound to get lonely with all of us busy all the time. Maybe once the football season is over, things will slowly go back to normal. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Abigail’s insisting on a limo. She said she invited Tally and Glory to use it, and told me to let you know that you could, too, if hell froze over and you got your head out of your ass. Her words,” I clarify with a grin. “We are planning to go out for dinner and everything.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are Tally and Glory going together as friends, or…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Honestly, I have no idea. After their behavior at Adil’s party I wouldn’t be surprised if they were going as a couple. “She didn’t say. But the way they were making out…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah, I know. That was…” She trails off, unable to find the words. “Glory is totally in love with her, isn’t she? The way she acted when Tally asked who she had a crush on...could she have been more obvious? But Tally is so clueless, she had no idea. I just feel bad, because Gerit really likes her, too…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I was unaware of that. I feel like such a gossip right now, but I'm living for this. “Shit, really? That explains the phone call then,” I pause, wondering how it will all turn out in the end. Sounds like a recipe for disaster. “You know Tally, what do you think will happen?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. I mean, I didn’t think she liked girls. Abigail had a crush on her once,” she pauses then wrinkles her nose. “Sorry. It was a long time ago. You know she’s all about you now. But anyway, I’ve known Tally pretty much my whole life. She’s never shown interest in girls before, even when they showed interest in her. But she was making out with Glory though, so...is she just someone who does that when she’s drunk? I don’t know, maybe? I just feel like one of them is going to end up hurt.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So what you’re saying is we should prepare for drama at Homecoming?”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. The things I do for love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Raelle asks Scylla to Homecoming.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>R.C.—</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s not too late to back out of this,</span>
  </em>
  <span> I tell myself as I stare at my reflection in the locker room mirror. I look even more ridiculous than I expected dressed in this borrowed uniform and when I hold the pom poms, it’s even worse. Is this </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>a good idea, humiliating myself in front of everyone like this?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Tally answers my unasked question as she bounds up to me like a golden retriever puppy, glancing at me in the mirror with a wide grin on her face. “Yes, you <strong>are</strong> doing this, Rae. Don’t you back out now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her hands are on my shoulders as she gives me a little pep talk. I got Tally and the other cheerleaders to agree to help me with this and with some last minute planning that included my mother’s assistance, developed a whole routine. It’s a very basic one, nothing like the cheerleaders usually do, because I don’t have those kinds of talents. But this isn’t about that. This is about making Scylla smile. Scylla loves cheerleading and she knows I hate it. This is my way of showing how much I support her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I’m humiliating myself for love.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We’re standing in formation in the empty gymnasium waiting for my mother to bring Scylla back. This is practice time but I enlisted her help to distract Scylla so I could sneak in, get dressed and ready for my big number. I still can’t believe I’m doing this. When Scylla enters, she looks shell-shocked and that’s my cue to start.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is dumb.” Clap. “I don’t care.” Clap. “I’ll go with you anywhere.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I shake my pom poms enthusiastically, aware of the girls behind me doing the same. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know I said.” Clap.  “That I don’t dance.” Clap. “But will you still…” I shake the pom poms again, ignoring the stupid look on my mother’s face. “Give me a chance?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The girls have handed me the sign I made and now that I’m done I hold it up. It’s pretty self-explanatory. It’s just “HOMECOMING?” written in big block letters.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The smile on Scylla’s face makes all of this worth it. I don’t even feel stupid anymore. She runs toward me and I drop the sign as she pulls me in for a kiss, ignoring my mother and everyone else as her arms wrap around me. The way she kisses me takes my breath away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, will you?!” Tally yells from behind us.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scylla pulls away, laughing at her friend’s reaction. “Yeah, I will.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They all cheer for us and I swear, it feels like a scene from a cheesy romantic comedy. When did </span>
  <em>
    <span>my life</span>
  </em>
  <span> become a romantic comedy? It annoys me how proud my mom looks of me, but my annoyance is short-lived because she tells Scylla she can skip out on the rest of practice &amp; spend it with me. The big game is this weekend and they’re sure to need the practice, but she lets her off the hook anyway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe you did all that for me,” Scylla says as she takes my hand and starts out of the gymnasium. I shrug my shoulders and she bumps my hip with hers. “I thought you didn’t want to go.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I give her hand a squeeze, before pointing out, “You didn’t even ask.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know you hate this kinda stuff, though.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s right, but it’s different with her. “Usually, yeah. But I love hanging out with you. So I want to go, and I decided to make an idiot out of myself asking you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t,” she argues, stopping as we reach the big oak tree out in front of the school. “It was sweet, and actually, pretty good. You know if you wanted to, you could totally-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I cut her off with a kiss before she can finish the sentence the way I’m afraid she will. I don’t want to hear what a great cheerleader I’d be, though I know she’s only teasing me. She returns the kiss with gusto, pinning me against the trunk of the tree. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I wouldn’t say that I’m in love, but I am smitten with Scylla Ramshorn. We still have so much to learn about each other and that process alone is something I look forward to every day. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We spend the rest of practice together under that tree, her head in my lap as I play with her hair. We talk about everything and nothing, from television shows to our dreams for the future, and when the squad starts pouring out from the exit door, I realize I’ve completely lost track of time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scylla steals a final kiss, about to head out when I grab her by the wrist.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What color is your dress?” I ask urgently, needing to know so I can come prepared.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She smiles beautifully at me, taking my hand in hers. “Cerulean.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You couldn’t just say blue?” I laugh and she pecks my lips again greedily before heading out and leaving me with my mother, who is walking up to me with that stupid grin on her face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rather than tease me, she puts her arm around my shoulder and asks, “I guess we should go get you something to wear, huh?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She didn’t say a dress. She’s not going to try to make me wear a dress. To say that I’m relieved would be a massive understatement.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I guess so,” I’m still pleasantly surprised by her suggestion, but I recover quickly from my shock to explain, “Libba went to this suit place, I thought maybe we could check it out? Scylla said her dress is ‘cerulean.’ I was assuming we’re supposed to match or whatever.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She nods, squeezing my shoulders as we walk together toward the car. “You don’t have to, but it’ll look much nicer. Of course we’ll also need to get her a corsage and you a boutonniere.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, what is</span>
  <em>
    <span> that</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She laughs, pausing to answer before she opens up the driver’s side door. “Flowers. One for her wrist and for your suit jacket.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Duh. I should’ve known that. It just goes to show that I have a lot to learn. I think that my mama is even more excited than I am about Homecoming, because she insists that we go to the suit place now. I tell her the name and we’re on our way, discussing what kind of tie I prefer. I decide on a skinny tie as we head inside together. It’s super weird because they have to measure me and everything, but once they do, I get shown my options. Like Libba, I go with plain black because I know I’ll be able to get more use of it that way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>When we leave, I have an entire suit, a dress shirt, a </span><em>cerulean</em> tie, dress shoes and monogrammed cufflinks. She seriously did all that, just dropped the money like it was nothing. We’re not poor or anything, like we used to be back before dad had tenure, but we’re not loaded like Abigail’s family. I feel a little guilty as we load up everything in the trunk. I end up thanking her probably twenty times.<br/><br/></p><p>
  <span>The night consists of homework, dinner, texting and nervous energy. It’s only a couple of days until Homecoming and it’s starting to set in that this is really happening. I don’t know how to dance and I’ve never really tried, so I casually ask my dad, knowing he's the parent that will embarrass me less. He is more than happy to show me how to slow dance, assuming that I will take the traditionally male position if I’m the one wearing a suit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I ask him about dancing to fast songs and he laughs out loud, telling me I’m on my own for that one unless I want to learn the MC Hammer dance. I say no thank you and I’ll figure it out on my own. I watch a few videos on my computer but decide I’ll just wing it and do whatever. I don’t need to put so damn much pressure on myself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Homecoming game is on Friday, our big “Away” game, and I haven’t decided whether or not I’m going to go. I know that with Libba as my best friend and Scylla as my girlfriend, I probably should, but sitting in the bleachers alone sucks. Sure, the band will be there, so maybe I can just hang out with Gerit again, but I’m feeling a bit weird about the situation after everything that’s going on with Glory. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When I ask about it, I can tell that Libba wants me to go, even though she doesn’t say it. After all, it is the biggest game of the season, so I just need to suck it up and go. The worst part is I know I won’t be able to ride on the buses with the team or the band, which means I’ll have to ask my mama if I can stow away on the cheer bus. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An hour plus of sitting with Scylla while having my mother staring at me is not my idea of a good time. The things I do for love.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bus smells a little funky. I haven’t been on a school bus in so long, I’d almost forgotten how much they suck. Scylla and I are squeezed into a tiny seat in the back of the bus while my mother sits up front, chatting with the bus driver and with Byron, who’s sitting beside her. I’m grateful to Byron for distracting her and I can’t help but wonder if Scylla slipped him a twenty to keep her occupied. Otherwise I don’t know why else he’d choose to sit next to her instead of one of the several empty seats.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So I got my suit all picked out,” I tell her as we lace our fingers together. “My mom wants you to come over and get some photos together before the dance. Libba and Abigail are coming too. Are you cool with having dinner with them before we go?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oooh, a suit. I can’t wait to see that,” her eyes sparkle in the sun and I feel butterflies in my stomach. “That sounds great. Like a double date.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We haven’t technically had an actual first date yet, so I feel a bit bad that Libba kind of made this unilateral decision, but we could still say no. “Uh, yeah, I guess. I wasn’t sure if you’d rather go straight to Homecoming or if you’d rather eat alone, or…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I like Libba. Abigail too. I’d love to hang out with them. Don’t worry so much.” She taps the space in between my eyes, grinning as she says, “You get this cute little wrinkle here when you’re worried.” I wrinkle my nose in response and she laughs, leaning her head onto my shoulder. “You’re really cute, do you know that?” Scylla hums contentedly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I’ve never been great at compliments, but hearing her call me cute actually makes me smile. A lot. Being around her always makes my face hurt a little. My smiling muscles aren’t exactly used to being used quite this much. “Thanks, but I think you’re talking about yourself,” I fish my Airpods out of my backpack and hold one up for Scylla to see, silently asking if she wants to listen together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She nods and I hand it over before I put on a Spotify playlist, hoping that she doesn’t hate indie music. My taste in music is all over the place, but this is what I’m in the mood for. As the music plays, she taps my hand with her thumb to the beat of the song. I can also feel my heart beating faster, my breath quickening. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If we weren’t on a school bus surrounded by cheerleaders (and my mom), I’d be kissing her right now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I jolt awake when the bus slows to a halt. I didn’t mean to fall asleep, but apparently, Scylla had too, because she’s rubbing at her eyes and yawning as she looks around the bus like she’s trying to remember where she is. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Deciding to make myself useful, I carry the bag of pom poms over my shoulder, trailing after the squad and feeling like some kind of cheer groupie. But I kinda am, aren’t I? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The football team is already huddled together, the quarterback giving a rousing speech that probably would’ve been better delivered by Abigail. The cheerleaders enter the stadium to take their place in front of the bleachers, and I slip onto the front bleacher, catching Scylla’s gaze through the fence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>While I don’t completely understand the rules or exactly what is going on, it’s actually an exciting game because the score is really close. I find that I’m on the edge of my seat as the fourth quarter winds down and both teams are tied. I actually jump up when our team’s touchdown falls just before the buzzer sounding.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I can’t believe it, but I’m clapping over sports. Libba and Abigail are on the field looking like they’re walking on air and in front of every screaming person on the away side, and all the pissed off people on the home side, they share a kiss.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I scream as loud as I can to cheer them on and Scylla looks over her shoulder at me with amusement plainly written on her face. She runs to approach the fence as I do the same, bringing our lips crashing together over the top of the short divider. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, that was a good game,” I admit with a laugh, hopping over the fence with Scylla’s help. Her arm slips around my waist as we admire the team celebrating on the field. I’m grateful I came tonight, unable to imagine what it would’ve felt like to miss this. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, it was. You would’ve been pissed if you missed it. Look at them,” she points out Libba and Abigail, who are still going completely nuts on their way out of the stadium. “Pure joy. When’s the last time something made you feel that way?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I know it’s cheesy, but it’s true, so I say it anyway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She laughs and squeezes my hand as she looks over at me. “Good answer.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Shut up and dance with me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Everyone goes to Homecoming.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>R.C.—</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The four of us stand together outside in our Homecoming outfits, letting our parents mandate our every pose until we start getting impatient. It’s Libba who says something first, reminding our parents that we can’t miss our reservation. This is one of the busiest nights of the year for local restaurants and the limo is already waiting. Reluctantly, they give in and let us go, piling into the limousine and instructing the driver to stop by Tally’s on the way to the restaurant. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I feel guilty because she’s probably been waiting for us, but at least I know we’ve probably gotten at least one decent photo of us. Abigail pulls Libba onto her lap and I grin, rolling my eyes and turning toward my girlfriend. She looks even more beautiful in her dress than I could’ve ever imagined and every single time I catch a glimpse of her, even out of the corner of my eye, my heart jumps in my chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Abigail’s dress is just as gorgeous and Libba rocks her suit like nothing else. The two of them can’t seem to keep their hands off of each other, but I’m feeling the same way. It has to be the formal wear driving us all crazy, because everyone looks too goddamn attractive. When we show up at Tally’s, I’m struck again by how lovely she and Glory look in their dresses. Tally’s is cream colored and flowy, and she’s wearing a flower crown on her head. Glory’s dress is pastel pink and she has a flower necklace that matches Tally’s crown. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi guys,” Tally greets breathlessly as she climbs in. “Oh, wow, Rae. You look hot!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The compliment makes me grin and I thank her, saying hello to Glory as she sits down next to Tally. I still haven’t figured out if they’re going as friends. They’re holding hands and there’s a funny look on Glory’s face. I make a note to talk to her about it later as Abigail tells the driver which restaurant we’re going to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I put my arm around Scylla, not really listening to the conversation going on between Tally and Libba and instead focusing on her. She meets my gaze and smiles, leaning into me comfortably. “This is really nice,” she whispers and I hum in agreement. “Thank you, for everything. I know you’re doing all this for me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was, at first, but I think we’re going to have a good time. I just hope I don’t step on your toes too much,” I laugh and so does she. “You’re the dancer in this relationship.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She promises she’ll guide me out on the dance floor and that eases my mind a little, enough for me to tune back into Tally &amp; Libba’s conversation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll probably get a bacon cheeseburger, maybe some fries…” Libba says decisively and Tally admits she already checked the restaurant’s menu online, suggesting that we get a bunch of appetizers to share because she wants to try everything.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Abigail agrees, shrugging her shoulders. “Sounds good to me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do they have mozzarella sticks?” Scylla leans forward to ask Tally, since she’s apparently the expert on the menu. She nods and Scylla celebrates by pumping her fist in the air adorably. “Yessss.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I glance over at Tally and Glory, noticing the way Glory’s thumb keeps brushing against the top of Tally’s hand. She keeps stealing wistful glances at her while the redhead cluelessly chatters on about the menu.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After we arrive at the restaurant, Glory announces that she needs to pee and I quickly agree, telling my friends what to order for me before we head into the bathroom together. She really does need to use the bathroom but as we both get into the stalls, I think about how I’m going to have this conversation. It’s not my business, but I can’t help but feel bad for her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We both come out to wash our hands and I turn toward Glory before I lose my nerve. “You’re in love with Tally, aren’t you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-” Her face reddens and she begins drying her hands with the loud ass dryer so I can’t say anything else. I wipe my hands on my pants and wait for her to be done.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Noting her terrified expression, I encourage her, “Glory, I think you should tell her. She has no idea.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought when I asked her to Homecoming, that she knew it...</span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> a friend thing. But now I’m not sure.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The girl is clueless when someone has a crush on her. Always has been. I promise you, she won’t know unless you say something. I’ve known her my whole life. I know what I’m talking about,” I pause to take a breath to steady myself. “But you need to know that Gerit has feelings for her, too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her face immediately falls. “Oh.” Glory leans against the counter, sighing. “She’ll never pick me over a guy. Her parents, they’d never...I mean, they love me, and I love them, but if they knew how I felt about her, they’d never let me see her again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But you’re making the decision for her. That isn’t fair. I know it’s hard, but it’s always best to be honest.” I put my hand on her shoulder and squeeze. “Let’s get back out there, Moffett. Rah-rah. Go team!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That makes her smile, thank god, because that look on her face was putting a damper on my mood.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When we make it to the table, our friends are discussing last night’s epic game. Neither Abigail nor Libba can wipe the smiles off of their faces. I remark that I actually enjoyed the game and Libba looks proud, either of herself or of me, or maybe both. Conversation flows naturally and before too long, our food arrives and we all grow silent, stuffing our faces without an ounce of shame.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tally will never fail to amaze me with how much she can eat. She finishes what’s left of the appetizers, then before we can talk about splitting the check, Abigail insists on paying. Libba’s the first one to protest but she shakes her head, giving her a sharp look. She’s stubborn as hell and I know she isn’t going to listen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come on, you know my parents don’t give a shit,” she assures us, slipping her gold card into the little black book and putting it at the edge of the table.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With that settled, it’s officially time to head to the school and go to my first school dance. Scylla takes my hand when we sit back down together and brings it to her lips. It’s a sweet moment that has my stomach flipping. “You’re the perfect girlfriend, do you know that?” I whisper before laying my head down on her shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Each of us seem to be lost in our own little worlds. I look over at Glory, watching her interact with Tally. I hope she’ll be okay with whatever happens tonight. I don’t know if Gerit will be at the dance or not, but that doesn’t matter. If Tally’s into him more than she’s into Glory, then that’s the end of it. I just hope if she doesn’t reciprocate that it doesn’t destroy their friendship.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I’m actually nervous for her, and a bit regretful about pushing her to open up. I didn’t really have the right to give her that advice and if it blows up in her face, it’s on me. She meets my gaze and nods as the limo stops in front of the school.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Abigail gets out first, statuesque and perfect like an actress getting ready to walk the red carpet and Libba follows after, linking her arm with hers. The height difference is insane, but it’s the cutest thing in the world. Tally slides out next, offering her hand to Glory, who takes it without hesitation, being pulled out and to her feet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shall we?” Scylla grins over at me and I can’t resist the urge to kiss her before following her out of the limousine.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I thank the driver before I close the door, slip my fingers into Scylla’s and walk up to give the person working the door our tickets. I can hear the music from here and it’s some shitty pop song but I don’t even care because I am with the most beautiful girl in the world and nothing else matters.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We get our pictures taken, knowing my mother won’t forgive us if we don’t. When we’re finished, the music shifts to a slower song and I’m relieved as Scylla pulls me onto the dance floor, her arms around my neck as mine circle around her waist. It’s nice having her so close and for a long time, neither of us says anything, just look into each other’s eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You are so beautiful,” I murmur and she smiles shyly at me. The lights and the music and the lack of distance between us has me feeling sentimental. “I’m so glad that I met you, Scylla.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It might be against the rules, truth be told, I don’t know, but I kiss her anyway. I can feel her smiling against my lips and when she breaks the kiss, she’s still smiling. “You’ve no idea how much I needed someone like you in my life,” she confesses, moving to rest her head on my shoulder as we sway together to the soft music. “I like you so much, Raelle. I think you’re a very special person.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I like you too, obviously... I did put on a cheer uniform for you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And I want to thank you for that memory, which I will never be able to forget,” she laughs when she sees my facial expression. “What? You looked hot. I still can’t believe you did all that. It’s like the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The words leave my lips without me thinking about them. “Stick with me, kid. There’s more where that came from,” and it earns a giggle, but my cheeks are red. “I don’t know why I said that,” I laugh, slowly my movement when the song comes to an end. “Why don’t I get us some punch?” I ask, knowing that I won’t be able to avoid the faster songs for the entire night, but at least I can buy myself some time now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She nods and I walk off to the punch table, praying that Adil lived up to his reputation and spiked it already. I’m pouring a second glass when I see Glory pull Tally off to the side, a serious expression on her face as she speaks to her privately. I’m pretty sure this is it. When I glance over to the other side of the gymnasium, I see Gerit enter, looking around like he’s trying to find someone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>My gaze falls back onto Glory, noticing she’s taken Tally’s hands in hers. I can only see Glory’s face because Tally’s back is to me, but she looks like she’s crying. Tally wipes away her tears and I stand there watching like a creep, wishing I could listen in on what they’re saying.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, shit, what’s going on?” Libba asks, making me jump out of my skin. “Sorry,” she apologizes and laughs, taking one of my cups of punch without even asking. “So, do you think Glory is telling her how she- op! Wow, I-” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I’m not sure who initiated it, but the two of them are kissing, and not in that sloppy, fun, drunk way they had at Adil’s party. No, this looks heartfelt. Gerit stops in his tracks when he sees them together and my heart breaks for him as he immediately turns around and walks off in the other direction. Glory’s fingers slip into Tally’s hair as she continues kissing her and all I can think is that someone is going to tell her parents about this. They’ve got a big storm coming, but as they finally break apart and Tally turns around, Glory’s hand in hers as she drags her back to the dance floor, she has the most radiant smile on her face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Libba remarks, filling her cup back up again and taking another drink. “Pretty sure this is spiked, dude. I should probably slow down.” She burps in my ear and I turn around to glare at her. “Sorry. Uh, do you think Gerit’s gonna be okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s sat in the back of the gym on the bleachers, looking defeated. I’m conflicted, feeling terrible for him but happy for Glory all at the same time. I pour a third glass of punch, since Libba hijacked mine and announce I’m going back to find Scylla.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait. Look,” Libba points Gerit out and I turn back around again, watching as Byron approaches Gerit on the bleachers and starts to talk with him. The two of them hug each other for a moment before Byron coaxes him back out to the edge of the dance floor, dancing like an idiot to make him laugh. Gerit laughs and takes his hand, spinning him and grinning. “Now that is adorable.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Abigail clears her throat. “Maybe you should stop spying and give your smokin’ hot girlfriend some attention.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s my cue,” Libba laughs, downing the rest of her punch. “Have fun tonight, Rae. Come find me later if you wanna see some of my sweet dance moves.” She winks and takes Abigail’s offered hand, following alongside her girlfriend as they walk back toward the center of the room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scylla’s gorgeous face comes into view as she approaches me. “There you are,” she looks at me incredulously. “Took you this long to get some punch?” She’s teasing, of course, but she takes one of the cups gratefully, sipping on it before raising her brows. “Yup. Spiked. Just like I thought. God, I hope Tally doesn’t drink any. Maybe we should warn her.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Speaking of Tally...I think her and Glory are here together as a couple now,” I smirk, gesturing to them dancing together like fools. “I was creeping on them a little bit. I talked to Glory at the restaurant, encouraging her to tell Tally how she feels.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She snorts, putting down her cup and guiding me away from the punch table. “God, thank you. I was getting so sick of watching Glory be all moon-eyed over her all the time at practice. If she didn’t say something, I was gonna.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s steering me toward the dance floor and I’m growing increasingly nervous because I have maybe one dance move and then I’m out. I hope I don’t look too stupid. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scylla finds us a place on the dance floor and begins to dance, effortless and beautiful as she moves to the beat of the song. She looks at me expectantly and I sway awkwardly in place.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” She asks with a laugh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m trying to dance, but I don’t really know what I’m doing. I’m afraid that I’m going to look like an idiot in front of you, and-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Raelle,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>she says my name sharply and holds out her hand, which I dutifully take. “Shut up and dance with me.”</span>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And that's all, folks! Thanks for reading and keep your eyes peeled because my next venture is a canon-compliant look forward into what I'd like to see out of season two.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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